Toys and Trinkets
by AmIObsessed
Summary: Wiping her eyes, a kind smile on his face, Flippy pulled the small child into his arms, "Don't worry, I'm here, I'm not going to let anything happen to you; I promise." Crimson orbs shining with tears, she inhaled his familiar scent that had been a sign of comfort for her for years now. "I love you, Flippy." AU. One sided crush of Younger!FlakyxFlippy, no pedo.
1. Chapter 1

**Yup decided to add a new story xD Guess this is the one that's taking the place of the story I'm about to finish :3 So, in this fic, everyone is a child except for the top four killers (Flippy, Splendid, Lumpy, The Mole) and of course Pop since . . yeah he has Cub and everything.**

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"And we can go on the swings!"

"Or go down the slide!"

"Also we can wash our hands afterwards!"

Cuddles, Giggles, and Petunia giggled amongst themselves as they locked hands and energetically talked about what they could do once they made it to the town's park. There were just so many possibilities! Like playing tag, buying ice cream from the vendor who would always give them discounts, or maybe even chase the dog who usually came sniffing around for food! It was the best place ever, and on a Saturday, there were so many things they could do!

The blonde haired boy raised his fist up in the air, smiling, "Ooh! Ooh ooh! Or maybe Toothy's got a new toy! I remember last time that he was showing me this airplane he had and—"

While he was talking, Petunia's deep blue eyes wandered around the passing neighborhood, spotting Pop pushing his toddler in a stroller, Sniffles messing with the new science kit his mom had bought him a few days back, and then—"Hm?" She stopped walking, Giggles and Cuddles looking back at her as she saw the back of someone's head popping out from behind a bush.

Someone with red hair, to be exact.

"What's wrong?" Giggles questioned, eager to get to the park already.

"Um, nothing but I'll be right back! I'll meet you and Cuddles there!" Letting go of her hand, Petunia jogged down the sidewalk, her navy colored Mary Jane's hitting the concrete as she waved her best friend off. "Go ahead!" Seeing them shrug and wave bye to her, she picked up her pace, wondering what the hidden girl was up to now.

She cut across Lumpy's yard, squealing when his small dog started yapping at and chasing her until it made it to the end of its leash, and made it to the bush. It was about four feet and three inches high, taller than she was, so she had to stand on the tips of her toes just to peek over it.

Confusion spread through her as she saw one of her friends bending over something that she was feverishly working on, dandruff infested hair creating a curtain that hid her face. ". . . ?"

There had to be another way that she could get a closer look, her feet and neck were starting to hurt. She could always go around the bush, and maybe if she was quiet enough, the red head wouldn't see her.

Congratulating herself for the good plan, she dropped to her hands and knees onto the ground, shivering and reminding herself to tell her mom to wash her clothes three times over, and crawled to where the two yards met the sidewalk. The rough cement scraped her palms and knees lightly as she went around the bend the hedge created, glad to see the girl's back still turned to her.

Petunia got up and took out a handkerchief from the front pocket of her dress to wipe the grass stains off of her knees. She tiptoed over the grass, her steps becoming slower the nearer she got to the girl. Eventually, she stopped behind her, holding back her giggle as she looked over her shoulder to see what she was doing.

Flaky brushed a piece of her hair away from her eyes as she continued to scribble on the piece of blank paper she had. Colors, jars of sparkle and glitter, and stickers were scattered around her; the things she was using for her project.

". . ?" Leaning over, Petunia looked at the colorful piece of paper, eyes growing in size at the number of hearts that were either stickers or hand drawn on it. It looked like she had used a whole jug of glitter too . . ! What was it even for . . Then it hit her what it was for, or rather, _who_ it was for.

The crudely drawn stick figure wearing army clothes and holding hands with another, shorter stick figure, a bush of red spikes coming from her head—most likely her hair—in a middle of a big heart was what made her realize that maybe she shouldn't have even seen it after all. Beneath it, written in messy printing, read 'For: Flippy, From: Flaky' one P facing the wrong way and the A looking like a U.

Cheeks red, Flaky added a few more hearts, for the piazza, finding the sudden lack of sunshine annoying. There weren't supposed to be clouds in the sky until next week! . . No clouds . . until next week . . Then what was blocking the su . . Shaking, she turned around, seeing Petunia's face only inches away, interest in her eyes as she examined her picture.

. . .

"A-A-AAAHHH!" she screamed loudly, tears popping into her eyes as she covered the picture. "P-PETUNIA! W-w-wha!" The blood rushed to her skin when Petunia looked at her and blinked.

"Oh, hi," the blue headed girl took in her friend's shaky appearance, the wateriness of her eyes, and the red in her cheeks.

"H-hi . ." Tugging on her knee length sweater, she rubbed her eyes, biting her lip to stop it from trembling. N-now Petunia knew and s-she would tell everyone and they'd a-all laugh at her . . Lowering her head, she tried fighting back the tears of embarrassment.

"Huh?" Blinking again, she understood in that moment that what she had been doing was private, that she wasn't supposed to have seen it . . let alone ogle at it . . Gasping and smiling as she figured out a solution, she held out her pinkie finger, "H-hey! Flaky! Look!"

Flaky looked up, seeing her pinkie and staring at it questioningly, bringing her thumb up to her mouth sadly.

"Don't worry!" Petunia assured, hoping to stop the tears that were about to come out, "I won't tell anyone! I promise!"

"Mm . ." She stood there awkwardly, looking at it for another two minutes before, shakily, raising her hand up and locking pinkies with her. "O-okay . . if you p-promise—Wah!"

Petunia had pulled her into a hug, saying over and over that her secret was safe. "No one will ever, ever, EVER find out about it! My lips are sealed! I even threw away the key that went with it!"

"O-okay! I-I'm g-going to f-fall Petunia!"

She released her, smiling, "Right, sorry. Oh! So what I wanted to ask you! Do you wanna come with me and Giggles and Cuddles to go to the park? It's gonna be a lot of fun cuz we're gonna play games and eat ice cream!"

Digging her foot into the floor, Flaky laughed nervously, her hands behind her back, "N-no I'm o-okay . . Flippy said that h-he wanted me to stay here . . He's going to p-pick me up in a little bit . ."

"Oh! Okay, maybe you can play with us later then?"

"Y-yeah . . Ehe . . I'll s-see you later 'Tunia," smiling, still embarrassed from her freak out only minutes before, she bent down to pick up her things, stuffing the art supplies in a small shoulder bag and edging around Petunia. "I-I'm going to go wait for him . . o-over there!" Turning away, she hid her face in her bag and ran out of the yard.

"Bye? We'll see you later then!"

It had been an abandoned house, how did Petunia even know she had been there . . ! The overgrown shrubs was enough covering so how . . well, she _was_ talking about the girl who could see a speck of dust from ten feet away . .

The young girl was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't see the stuck out foot in front of her until she tripped over it. "Wha-ah!" She dropped her things, falling and skidding her knee on the sidewalk as she fell. Whimpering, she felt the tears again, sitting back on her knees as she reached out for her bag.

"What a klutz~" A hand flashed down and grabbed the strap of her bag, pulling it away from her reach.

"Wha . ." She looked up, stifling a scream when she saw the two masked faces of the neighborhood bullies, the meanest boys around, the ones who always pulled her hair and made fun of her.

Shifty and Lifty.

Shifty swung her bag around in his hand, grinning at her, eyes filled with mischief. "Why are you all by yourself, Flaky? Did your friends ditch you?"

"Or did your 'Flippy' leave you alone?" Lifty added, trying to follow in his brother's footsteps. "How sad~ poor little Flaky~"

She crawled backwards, eyeing her swinging bag and thinking of a way to get it back. As impossible as it was, she needed to! Though, the two had never given anything back to her that they had stolen; the only real thing they had given to her was a mud pie they had dumped on her head . . "I-I'm going to go w-wait for him right now! He'll be c-coming any second now!"

"Oh really?~ does that mean we've got time to show you our new pet?"

Despite herself, she had to ask, "W-what is it?"

"Show her Lifty."

Lifty snickered, pulling out a giant cockroach from his pocket and holding it out to her. "His name is name is Sam~ (xD oh Crystal~). We just found him this morning~ isn't he cool?"

"U-uh . . Y-yes he—" Flaky screamed when he stepped forward, pulled on the front of her sweater, and dropped the disgusting insect in, laughing as she started crying and jerking around. She pulled on her sweater and jumped up, feeling it crawl across her stomach. "AHH! AHH!"

"Heh," Shifty took the time she was panicking in to stop the bag, hold it in his hands, and flip open the cover. Turning it over, he dumped its entire contents out onto the floor, frowning when he saw it only contained glitter and stickers. "Dang it, she has nothing good with her."

Grabbing a colorful paper that had floated down, Lifty brought it up to his face. ". . What the?" He handed it to his brother, unsure of what it was supposed to be.

"What is . ." smiling evilly, he folded the paper and waved it in the air. "Hey look what we got~"

The roach finally fell from her sweater and crawled away, leaving her panting and wiping her face. "Huh . . uh . ." She looked at him, gasping when she saw the paper—her drawing!—in his hand. "H-hey! Give that back! It's n-not y-yours!" Huffing, she tried jumping up to where he was keeping it in the air away from her, only to have Lifty cover her face with his hand as he kept her arm's length.

Laughing at her futile attempts at swat his arm away, he said, "Oh yeah~? You want it so bad? Come and get it~"

"Stop it stop it stop it!" she whined out. "It's mine! N-not yours! Give it back!"

"I think I'm gonna keep it since you want it so—"

"Hey! What are you two brats doing?!" They stopped, uttering an 'uh-oh' before dropping her things and running away down the block in a hurry.

"O-oh!" Smiling, Flaky stopped swinging her arms, yelling out happily, "Flippy!"

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**What did you think? It sounded better in my mind XD Should I continue this or just leave it the way it is? I have a few ideas for this . . and I'll write the chapters less rushed next time . . Oh! I also want to get your opinions on a genderbent crossover story? I'll be asking this question in my other stories too. Would you want to read that?**

**Psst . . Crystal . . hi . . c:**


	2. The Top

Flippy was standing at the corner of the street with his fist raised up at the fleeing boys, "Yeah, that's right! Get out of here before I call your parents!" Once they were out of sight, he turned his gaze down, seeing Flaky smiling at him. He walked over to her, bending down in a squat and tussling her hair, "Hey kiddo, I thought I told you to meet me at the streetlamp at four thirty?"

Flaky giggled and fixed her now messy hair, "S-sorry! I think I was too busy drawing and I didn't k-know what time it was . . !"

Giving her a half serious eye roll, he started picking up her dropped items and placing them back in her bag. "Uh huh, or is it because I'm cooking tonight and you don't want to come home to eat that, what do you call it? Gunk?"

"N-no! . . I call it mush . ." She remembered all the cooked dinners her older friend had made for them, and destroyed. His latest attempt at him trying to be 'spontaneous' and 'creative' while making her a bowl of soup had ended up with Lumpy having to come in and dumping it in a bag marked as hazardous. So that's why they'd usually just eat out or call Splendid over to cook for them.

"My mush is as good as anyone else's!" He stuck his tongue out at her sarcastic nod and picked up the piece of paper that the boys hand been keeping away from her, wondering why it had been so important. Turning it over, he smiled and looked back at her, "Hey, is this for me?"

Blushing, she put her hands behind her back, "Y-yeah . . that's what I w-was working on . . why I was late!"

He took in the sloppy writing, overdone amount of glitter, and the drawings in the middle that looked like she had been using her left hand the whole time. And he thought it was perfect. "Aw, thanks kid," he folded it back up to put in his pocket; he'd find a frame for it later. "I love it!"

He took her hand in his gloved one and pulled up her light weight easily, raising her to his shoulders where she latched onto his back, arms around his neck. "So how about we go home and I'll start cooking"—a hard stare from the girl—". . or we can order out!"

She giggled and nodded. At least she wouldn't have to give his dog her food tonight.

xXx

"Flippy!" Flaky stopped in the doorway in her fresh princess jamis, pinching her nose to keep out the horrible stench that filled the kitchen. She could almost see the smoke coming from the inside of the stove where some poor cat was probably being cooked alive. "W-what are you d-doing!? I thought y-you said you weren't cooking!"

"What?" Flippy glanced away from where he was chopping fruit and putting it in a blender. "Oh! Oh, er, well I had already bought everything and . . you know how you can't let food go to waste . ." He smiled sheepishly at the frowning child. "Tomorrow for sure we'll eat out. I won't even lay a foot in the kitchen if it makes you happy?"

Pouting, she walked to the island and climbed onto one of the chairs, putting her elbows on the table and huffing. "F-fine. But you can't even g-go near here!"

"Whatever you say Flakes," Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he continued dicing the banana on the board and tossing it inside the machine. "So, besides those two little punks messing with you, wanna tell me how your day went?"

Her eyes followed his cupped hand as it dropped cut up pieces of strawberries as she dodged his question, "Don't f-forget to put the top on."

He said something that sounded like 'Neehh', stretching out the E as he grabbed the top and set it right next to the blender so he wouldn't forget. Flaky was always telling him things like that, always pointing out what he had to do so nothing went wrong. It was like she thought he couldn't handle doing something simple even though he was the adult between them. She thought she was so slick in avoiding his question, but he could always just ask it again. "Your day? How did it go?"

Flaky shrugged, taking interest in doodling on an old receipt with a blue pen she found next to her. "It was o-okay . . but Nutty got me so mad!" Her cheeks puffed out as she remembered what the sugar addicted kid did to her when she was sitting on the sidewalk enjoying her snack. "H-he wouldn't stop bugging me! He kept asking if he c-could have some of my rice crispies treat! And then when I looked away, you k-know what he did?"

"You do know that we have a big box of those things in the cabinet, right?"

"He took it from me! And r-ran off and never apologized! He didn't say p-please or anything, he was just t-trying to grab it from my hand. His gross drool even got in my hair," she crossed her arms. She wasn't too concerned that his boy germs and dumb DNA had touched it, she was mostly annoyed that she had gotten up early to pack the treat in her bag only to have it swiped by someone.

"Hasn't Splendid warned you not to show him that you have sugar?" He rolled his eyes again, cleaning his hands on a napkin.

Drawing a tail on the cat she was working on, she shook her head. "Uncle Splendid didn't say that I had to l-look around everywhere to see if he was a-around."

"Well . . maybe this can teach you a lesson," Flippy tapped a finger to his eyes. "You have to be more aware of your surroundings because anything can happen if you're distracted. Be focused, alert, and never, ever bring your attention away from the little—" With a loud blending, the kitchen electronic turned on, churning the fruits inside to a drinkable mixture.

But with no top on, it only ended with the cabinets, table, sink, and both inhabitants being splattered with the pink gush.

Gasping loudly as it hit her across the face, Flaky blinked, the smoothie sliding down her cheeks and dropping onto her pajamas and picture. She shared a stare with the solider who was completely soaked, strawberry chunks in his hair, the room going quiet.

Flippy turned it off, forgetting what he had been saying about being vigil at all times. "Um . . dang it Flaky! I told you to remind me to put the top on!" After his exclamation, he looked away from the glare the girl was giving him that said 'Don't you dare blame this on me'. He would have a lot of cleaning to do that night . . lucky him.

"Heh, I-I mean—" The string of bad events was only added on to when they both stiffened, the acrid smell of smoke meeting their nostrils. It smelled like burnt hair and singed skin combined, and wrapped in a moldy tortilla to be left out in the sun for three days.

Well, there went the chicken that he was cooking.

Smiling nervously, he flicked a gunk of strawberry off his shoulder and went to go get the fire extinguisher they used more times than any normal household. For crying out loud, who else had an extinguisher in their household?

"I'll put out the food, you call the pizza place and order a large pepperoni?"

Flaky sighed, jumping off the chair to go start another bath for herself and to call herself. Why did this always have to happen?

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**xD Yes, this is going to be somewhat random and I don't know why but Flaky seems to me like she'd be a mature child—aside from all the crying. Nice, from me writing gore to this. Prepare for the short chaps full of fluffy and weirdness~**


	3. The Most Important Meal of the Day

**Disclaimer: I ALWAYS FORGET TO ADD THESE WHY. If I had a million dollars I would buy this show off Mondo Media in a heartbeat! But until then . . *grabs pioneer hat and goes to dig for gold***

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The blanket thrown over Flippy's large form began to slide down his arm, dripping down the side of the couch and landing into a green heap on the carpeted floor. The veteran didn't seem to notice this, though, as he rubbed his nose and turned over so his back was facing the head of red hair kneeling down in front of the TV.

Flaky set her bowl of Fruit Loops down to the side of her as she settled down, her hair still frizzy and puffy from sleep. The large camouflage patterned shirt with 'Army Girl' written across the front was full of wrinkles and creases, its sleeves that were meant to only go past her shoulders hid her elbows from view, and the ends of it covering her crossed legs when she sat down. She reached up, the tip of her tongue protruding in concentration at stretching her hand far enoguh to push the power button for the television.

The gray screen lit up to show the dancing blobs of color that were singing about how everyone poops, the background set of a bathroom and one of the characters performing the tedious task.

Frowning, she leaned back and grabbed the control from where it had fallen from her friend's grasp. She turned her body back to the screen, fingers clicking the up button and switching from any show that didn't catch her interest to the next. None of the shows about talking animals or sea creatures just didn't intrigue or beckon her to watch them . . . –

_'GOOOAAALLLL!'_

Her finger froze on the button, interrupting her show surfing and pausing on the channel when she saw the wide field of grass and the players from each team chasing after a black and white ball.

Now _this_ was something she'd gladly watch.

Not that she didn't find learning about the colon and the route the food you ate used to leave your body fun . . . she just preferred watching sports over educational kid's shows. It probably had to do with her being on the school's unofficial soccer team and being involved in at least three other sports for the town, the urge to see how the professionals played winning her over as she took example from them. Soccer just hooked her more than the Wiggle Waggles did, the intensity that each player showed bypassing the happy giggles of the paid people who wore the costumes.

She dropped the control and picked up her bowl, eyes glued to the screen and legs of the players as she raised the spoon to take a slurp of the milk, failing to catch any of the actual loops of colorful cereal. She was happily sucked what little amount of action there was in the sport, not paying attention to the man who sat up on the couch.

Flippy smacked his lips together and scratched his lower back, beret tossed onto the recliner next to the couch and his jacket hung on the coatrack in the hallway. He was clad in nothing but his black undershirt, dog tags, and army colored boxers – it was only Flaky who lived there so he had nothing to worry about. Privacy wasn't really huge on the duo; the only meaning it had in the household was the other had to knock before entering the bathroom, but anything else wasn't bothered with.

His drowsy green eyes drifted from the light in the kitchen, to the game going on the TV, to the small girl sitting in front of it, mouth opened and the bowl of cereal forgotten in her hands. Smiling, amused at the wideness and interest her eyes took on, he cleared his throat of all the scratchiness it held and said, "What are you doing this early?"

Always being an early riser himself, he hadn't expected the younger female to beat him to it that day, or any other day for the last few years.

Flaky snapped out of her television state, placed the bowl back to the ground, and lowered the volume for the set. "H-huh? Oh, I got bored of lying in bed doing nothing, so I came out here! You k-know, you talk in your sleep." She smiled at him, a bit of mischief stirring in the crimson orbs of hers that he, or really anyone, ever witnessed on the shy child. "How was your unicorn ride?"

"Well you talk about baseball while you nap," He muttered, worrying about how much he revealed about his ridiculously fluffy side. Had he brought up the penguins? Choosing to forget what they had been talking about, he stared at the screen, his thoughts exiting his mouth as he asked, "What's the point of this? A few men kicking around a ball while another man shouts Spanish words is supposed to be entertaining to you?"

Here he was, a twenty-two year old man asking an eight year old girl what the purpose of soccer was. What had his life been reduced to.

Before she could go on one of her famous speeches about the history, the rules, and the purpose of why the sport had been created for, Flippy shook his head for a never mind and did his best of combing through his messy hair using only his fingers. Most of the pieces that had clumped together during his sleep split apart, and that was enough to satisfy him as he got up from the couch, picked up the blanket, and folded it.

"You didn't have to get yourself cereal, Flaky, you know I could've made something for—"

"I think w-we have to buy something else to put out the fires," she interrupted, "because the one we have isn't working anymore. There was s-still some parts of the chicken that were hot, it could've burned the trash if you didn't step on it, remember?"  
"Harsh," rubbing the back of his neck at the destroyed dinner from the night before, he got another idea for a suitable breakfast. "Anymore pieces of pizza left?" An almost suitable breakfast then.

Giggling, she shook her head, "I went to go check when I woke up and the box was all c-chewed up. Guess Pitch didn't like your cooking so much he didn't want to eat the burnt chicken, all the pizza was gone and there's sauce on the floor!"

"I should just kick his sorry butt out at night. He's getting too spoiled anyways," growling now that his one idea for a meal was gone, he was forced into the kitchen, opening cabinets and the fridge door to search for food. "You ate the last of the cereal, huh?"

"I was up f-first so it was mine! Hey!" Flaky climbed over the cushions of the couch and lowered herself down from the back of it, running after him, her bare feet padding against the tile of the kitchen. "D-don't you remember promising that you wouldn't go into the kitchen today?"

"I have to eat Flakes."

Determined not to be undermined, she grabbed the tail of his shirt and pulled on it, using all of her strength and weight to drag him back out into the living room. "No! A promise is a p-promise! You can't break them Flippy! You have to do what you said you would!"

He sighed and let her pull him back out of the kitchen wondering when promises had gotten so serious. "What am I supposed to eat then?"

"Don't w-worry I'll find something! Just stay, stay!" Pointing a finger and staring at him until he sat back on the armrest of the couch, she skipped back to find any ingredients that would taste good mixed together. Anything she threw together would be better than whatever he made for himself, now all she had to do was find the things.

It struck her as a surprise when she opened the fridge and saw it was empty. Not just figuratively, that would mean that there was at least items of food hidden somewhere, but literally empty. There were only condiment bottles that they hadn't used since the last Fourth of July lining the wall of the door, a single moldy tortilla in a sandwich bag, and a forgotten jar of Clamato juice in the corner of the lowest shelf. Other than that, there was nothing edible in sight; certainly nothing that she would be able to use in a meal.

Abandoning it and searching through the cupboards and drawers she could reach, Flaky realized that her friend must have used every last crumb in the ruined dinner he had created. Or . . maybe he . . She crossed the floor to push open the cover of the trashcan, withholding a gag at the rotten smell. Of course, she should have expected him to throw away what he didn't use instead of wrapping it in foil or putting them in containers.

"F-Flippy?" She asked.

He was bending back and leaning to the side, trying to get a look at what she was doing. "Yeah?"

"Um, when are w-we going to go buy more food? Because I don't think we have anymore . ."

Flippy retracted at the word shopping, he had never cared for it is all, but the child had always managed to drag him to whatever store they needed to go. "Oh, uh, maybe in a week . . or whenever we can . . a month at the most?" Why did they need to go to the store? Splendid's house was two blocks away, they could always just raid his fridge and leave an _I owe U_ note, that's what he wanted to do anyways.

She sighed. "O-okay." Looks like she was going to have to use what she found to make him a scrumptious breakfast, it wouldn't be much of a challenge.

Going back to the fridge, she took the condiments out of the shelf and hugged them to herself. Then she reached for the moldy Mexican roll, pinching an edge of the bag that the fungus hadn't made it to and pulled it out, rotating it in the air to see the growing green thing from all angles. Lastly, holding all the other ingredients in her left arm, she reached in and slid the Clamato juice out by its wrapper. Now that she had gathered everything she needed, she took a deep breathe in and stumbled to the island, face reddening from the heaviness of the load.

From the couch, the soldier heard the clattering of things being thrown on the island counter. "Flaky? You alright in there? You sure I can't help you?"

"N-no! Don't come in here! It's a s-surprise and you'll love it!"

Within minutes Flaky had spread out the ingredients for the future meal, arms at her sides, brainstorming breakfasts that they could be combined to make. She leaned backwards off the seat and grabbed the handle of a drawer, opening it and grabbing a new spoon from the group of utensils. She unscrewed the tops of the three bottles of ketchup, mustard, and relish as she dipped the spoon inside each of them, scooping a dollop of each and dumping it on the flattened tortilla. Its backside was used like a knife, mixing the three together and smearing it across the roll, and even covering up the parts that were moldy.

The colors had changed from their solid red, yellow, and green to create a brownish-green mixture, the bumps in it from the relish part. She didn't know that this was a very unappealing breakfast, she just knew that she was getting somewhere when all the mold was hidden and she had emptied the three containers of what they had held.

Setting the spoon on the napkin, she lowered herself from the seat and went to the sink where she picked a rather tall cup. This is where the hard part happened, she knew, placing the cup on the floor and grabbing the jar of the clam and tomato blend. When she had been pouring her milk it had already been empty, her using the last drops of it, and light weighing, but since neither of the two had ever drank from this bottle – it made her ask herself what Flippy had even been thinking when he bought it – it was still filled to the top and heavy.

Her arms trembled as she hesitantly tipped it on to the side, watching the stream of red juice spill into the cup, splashing up when it hit the flat bottom and speckling the rounded sides. She was biting her lip and reassuring herself that she could do this, she could pour the drink without any messes. The reassuring thoughts grew louder in her mind when the shaking in her thin arms grew more violent, the top of the bottle lowering to the ground despite her efforts of keeping it up.

"O-oh!" She winced when it slipped from her sweating palms, hit the edge of the cup, and dropped onto the floor. "O-oops . . !" The liquid quickly spread out onto the tiles and seeped in between each dip that separated the squares from each other until she picked it up, clutching it to her chest as she nibbled her lower lip. The remaining juice swished in the new empty space it had while she jumped over the mess and ran to the napkin holder.

Flippy had told her only a few times that she couldn't be making spills, never thinking it was necessary since she was a tidy child, but those warnings had been firm. How would he react to the spill!?

Sighing, the green haired man looked at the clock on the cable box beneath the television. "Flaky, it's been ten minutes, you sure you have this under control?"

"Eheheh! Y-yeah I do! If you come in r-right now it'll just spoil the surprise!" Flaky cried whilst throwing napkins over the spill, promising that she'd clean it up just as soon as she got his breakfast out to him. She grabbed what hadn't spilled out of the jar, refilled the cup and dried it, rolled up the tortilla, and ran out of the kitchen, standing in front of him with a shortness of breath. "S-see you didn't have to help me . ."

"I guess I didn't," he smiled, noticing how she put her hands behind her back to hide his surprise meal. "So, what'd you make me?"

"Close your eyes and hold out your hands and I'll give it to you!"

"Oooh a surprise," chuckling, he held both of his hands out, palms upwards, shutting his eyes. He suspected that she was going to hand him a sandwich, maybe even one of the snacks that she insisted he buy, but . . he really hadn't expected the squishy, cold thing that he was given.

"Ta da! Open your eyes!"

Already dreading what she had concocted, he cracked an eye open and looked down at his . . breakfast. His thumb was pressed against a patch of mold, holding the tortilla together, and he could see the oozing brown mush dripping from the open ends.

Flaky was a good cook for a child and she had made some pretty decent meals, but _this_ . . was just plain out nasty looking. It looked like something he would make.

"What the he—" Seeing her large, hopeful eyes, he stopped and smiled weakly at her, lying through his teeth. "Er, thank you Flaky! This looks so good! How do you do it all the time? I can't wait to taste it. . . ."

Smiling and putting her hands on the couch, giving the full intensity of her stare to him, she squeaked, "R-really? I'm happy you like it! G-go on then, I want to see the look on your f-face when you take the first bite, please!" Her excitement of making something out of such unusual ingredients was bubbling up and brightening her face, eyes growing even larger, if that was possible.

He gulped, giving a huge, fake smile and giving a squeeze to it, some gunk spilling out and landing on his thigh. The trail of slime it left behind nearly made him shudder in front of the girl, but he kept his muscles tight as he nodded. "Sure, I can . . take a bite of this right now . . Mmm." His lips parted, the end of the roll raising to his chin, brushing against it, and touch ing the flesh of his bottom lip.

Eyes crossed and focused on one particularly threatening patch of green, his teeth came down slowly, gingerly biting down and tearing off the tiniest piece they were able to. It was lying flat on his tongue while he made a show of chewing the atom sized bite, adding an approved nod when it was gone, discreetly pushed up against the roof of his mouth.

"Wow! That was _excellent_. Just looking at this thing is making me full, actually, I think I am full. Such a waste of food, but I don't think I can eat another bite of this! . ."

"Sure y-you can!" Flaky giggled and was on the verge of pushing the rest into his face when the phone in the hall rung. Stopping, she looked at it. "I'll get it!" She took off and he could vaguely hear her greeting one of her friends while he snapped his eyes around the room, hurriedly trying to find a place to put the thing.

Throwing it up in his hands for fear that it was contaminated, he spat out the nibble he had taken and wiped his mouth on his arm. There was no way he was going to eat it, he would get food poisoning if he did, and he wasn't leaning on the idea of having stomach pains for days on end. He was whispering to himself where he could put it when he heard Flaky say, "Okay! I'll tell him! Bye Lammy!" the receiver being pressed down as she ended the call.

"Shoot." He had one idea where he could put the roll, and he couldn't think it over more than once since she was only two feet from running back into the living room – at most. Hearing her call his name, he shut his eyes, pulled the collar of his shirt out, and dropped the food into it, its filling squishing out and slathering against his chest. He had to clutch the couch with both hands to stop the convulsions of shudders as the girl speed back in and ran next to him, disappointment filling her face when she saw that she had missed him eating.

"A-aww . . I didn't see the l-look you had . . !"

"Don't worry, I don't think you missed out too much," he uttered, keeping a straight face instead of the grimace underlying it. "By the way, what did Lammy want?"

As if remembering what her close friend had told her, she gasped, not wanting to forget it. "Oh yeah! She asked me i-if I could go to her house later to play, can I? School's tomorrow and I d-don't want to wait until the weekend to go!"

Relief that she hadn't noticed the lump at the bottom of his shirt washing over him, Flippy nodded, "Why not? It sounds fine to me, call her in a bit and say that I said you could go."

"Y-yay! Thanks Flippy!" She blinked once, grabbing the cup off the armrest and swishing the juice inside, then holding it out to him, asking in all her innocence of not knowing what he had done with the breakfast, "D-don't you want to drink something? I like drinking stuff with my breakfast, and maybe you d-do too? Here!"

He eyed the cup of the blended drink, silently crying on the inside, and took it from her with a pleasant smile. "Thanks . ." Staring down in it and seeing his disgusted expression reflected back at him, he didn't even bother to turn away from her as he pinched his nose, tilted his head back, and drained the cup of its long ago expired drink, nearly gagging at the taste.

When he had ingested the last drop, he set it to the side, mouth puckered and expression queasy. "Thanks for the breakfast Flaky, I could really taste the clams." Adding 'Go to the market to buy more food that would actually be edible' to his to-do list.

* * *

**So I named his dog Pitch because Crystal and I agreed that the devil dog that Cub got in that one mini show was actually Flippy's (c:) and it was set off by high pitched things like whistling. Yeah . . I don't know about the name but . . whatever. This turned out longer than I thought, woooo. Too lazy to proofread this, but I will one day when I'm not tired.**

**In response to htffan951: *shrugs* no Flippy isn't her dad he's just her guardian, and the reason for her not having parents may just be something small like I'm not even sure these kids are supposed to have parents (even if I gave Petunia and Sniffles moms xD) or . . I'll let you think on that. It may or may not be revealed in later chapters C:**


	4. Being Bullied

Lammy and Flaky walked through the gates of the town elementary school, arms linked as they giggling amongst themselves, recalling the previous date's events during the small tea party they had.

The young girls crossed across the black top chattering animatedly about how Flippy had accused the French child's toy pickle of giving him a dirty look. He had sounded half serious behind his joking tone, both of them noticing how he had shifted in his chair, leaning away from the button eyed toy.

They had giggled it off, and continued with their tea party, the green clothed soldier being there because Flaky had forced him to take a seat in the tiny chairs set out along the grass. But when Lammy had left, yelling a question to her mother in her high voice, he had reached out to the stuffed toy.

Curious, she had asked what he was doing.

_"I'm telling you, Flaky, this pickle is starting to give me the creeps—" He grabbed what he had reached for and plucked it out of the back of the girl's play thing, eyes widening as his mouth dropped opened. "Oh my good go— . . ! Flaky, is, um, Lammy ever saying things about wanting to hurt people . . !?"_

_"Huh?" She stood up in her chair, wanting to see what he had in the palm of his hand. Hurting people? Lammy was a nice girl who wouldn't hurt anything! Not even the bee that had landed on her arm a few weeks back and stung her, only if she had swatted it away when it had started nuzzling her skin._

_She wouldn't have had to find out the hard way that she was deathly allergic to the little insects. _

_"No, w-why?"_

_Flippy held up the sliver of a shiny, bendable needle that wasn't thicker than the width of a hair. The sewing piece resembled a miniature shanking device, a hidden weapon that could hurt a person by stabbing their eye out. He would've brushed it aside as nothing if it had fallen on the floor and was sticking up, but stabbed in the back of a plushie?_

_Lammy must have been a _very_ angry child._

Both children stopped in front of their classroom, showing each other the colored pictures they had been assigned to finish as homework.

Mr. Lumpy always gave out easy things for homework, not once that they could remember had he given them a worksheet that had real numbers, or letters, or anything that he would have trouble reading and correcting. So for the most part, class consisted of nothing but laughter, coloring, and art projects, never a test or questions that would challenge them to review what they had learned – which was nothing. They weren't complaining, and the teacher seemed to have even more fun than the students did when it was doodle time.

The screams coming from the children's playing was put to a halt as the proctors blew their whistles and called for all to get to class. Classroom doors opened as each child begrudgingly left their games of tether ball or hopscotch, trudging to their classes and bidding goodbye to whichever friend they had been associating with.

The bigger kids, rowdy bunch of sixth graders, would zig-zag through the crowds of miniature nine year olds and occasionally tease one of them. Flaky saw one pull a bag of chocolates out of the hands of a distracted Nutty, opening it and eating the treats in front of his face while he screeched, Sniffles covering his ears as his friend stared blankly at the boy who had taken his candy after outburst.

She questioned herself for why she didn't tell Mr. Lumpy that there was bullying going on, but maybe it was okay since Nutty was the smaller of the two and he was the one who had jumped on the other's face, shouting to give his candies back and hitting him over the head with balled fists. The sixth grader dropped the bag, screaming, and ran around in a flurry until the principal and another teacher began to try and pry the angered ball of energy from him.

It took promise after promise that they would replace his snack before he calmed down enough for them to succeed in removing him, the scratch marks, and some tooth indents, in the elders face, serving as a reminded of a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

He was led away to the nurse's office while Nutty skipped off, heading to class and dismissing the assault he had just committed over a bag of chocolates.

Flaky put her finger to her lip, eyes following the back of the boy's head as he disappeared in the main office, glancing towards the green haired child who had made it to the end of the line, no signs of guilt plastered to his face. It still was a wonder how the sugar addict hadn't been transferred to a special school, and how no adult ever brought the subject up.

She looked away from him, feeling a nudge at her arm from her French friend, and towards the door that had opened, their half-witted teacher holding it open to them with one arm, his copper eyes crossed as usual.

"Hi there, kids!" Lumpy smiled, it coming out goofy, and ushered them inside. He pat the tops of their heads and counting how many children had come to school that day. "One, three, A, potato, five, alright that's everyone!" There was more than five children, he just didn't know what came after that; it was the highest he could count to after all.

Giggling at her teacher's stupidity – come on, she could count higher than him, and he was looked to be twenty-seven or so – she fixed the shoulder strap of her bag and jovially stepped into the classroom, smiling in her hesitant way as she scurried to her seat.

The classroom wasn't just a classroom, it was the place where the kids could come and do anything they wanted, really. There were no limitations on their freedom, giving them the will to run around the room, the adult who was supposed to give them an education treated the school day like it was another recess.

The walls were lined with loose papers of drawings that he considered neat and well colored compared to his. Only the best of the best got hung up on the artsy perimeters of the room. They had to meet a standard, they had to impress him!

There were dozens of pictures hung up. Lumpy was easy to impress, that's all.

Groups of four were set around the room, there being only four of these as it was a smaller class, where the students were assigned seats in the beginning of the year. But there was the one desk in the front of the room near the whiteboard and another nestled in the back corner, these used for the children who would act up.

Flaky passed by the "time out" desk by the back corner, waving shyly to Nutty who was already dropping his backpack on its surface, papers spilling out of the side and floating into the ground as he grew comfortable in the seat he was sent to every day. It was practically his permanent seat, seeing how every day during class he'd scream, get sent to the back, and sit by himself for the rest of the day.

She continued onward to her table group beneath the window where they kept their growing plants, pulling out a chair from the desk that had her decorative nametag and plopping down in it. The smile began slipping away, turning into a worried frown that she tended to grow whenever she came into the classroom.

The class itself was fine, full of fun activities and friends who she could associate with, but it was the group that she had a problem with. She might've been the only student who didn't appreciate where they sat at, the others having a blast with who they were seated next to and across from.

Giggles, Cuddles, Handy, and Petunia made up the group closest to the door. Then it moved to where Sniffles, Nutty's original seat, Russel, and the kid with the orange afro who liked being referred as "Disco Bear" sat at in front of Mr. Lumpy's desk. The third group seated Lammy, Mime, Toothy, and Truffles in the middle of the room.

Lastly . . her table in the far back . . where no one could hear the taunts and names that were thrown at her each day . .

Flaky lowered in her seat and her chin barely reaching above the desk. Her smile had vanished, lips trembling and fingernails scuffing the underside of the table as she whispered quietly that today she'd be spared from the waterworks.

_Not today_ . . _Please not today_ . . Her thoughts pleaded, and heart skipping in queasiness when she was denied her plea. Eyes darting away as the two heads of deep green hair entered the room, identical faces wearing the leering grins, she tapped her fingers against the skin of her legs that wasn't covered by her sweater. If she wasn't looking up then—

Too late, they already noticed her flickering eyes, telling them that she was avoiding any contact with them. Oh, being ignored~ she wanted to play that game did she~ it would be harder to keep to herself now that they knew what she was doing, it only working in spiking their interest more than other days.

Sharing a grin, they brushed past the other tables, grabbing the unattended pencils and erasers that were there and dropping them into their open packs, slithering to their group. They made a show of flinging their things onto the floor by their desks and sitting in their seats, one boy taking the chair across of her and the other shifting into the empty one to her side.

The girl stared at her clenched hands in her lap, hair blocking the sly looks they gave her as she made a promise not to look up the entire class period.

She flinched in the middle of her promise when one of their hands stomped down on her desk, her breath catching and her jaw locking. They weren't going to leave her be today, she figured out.

"Mm, what are you doing Flaky~ why don't you look up at us, huh? We are table mates after all~"

"Or are you still mad that we dropped that bug in your sweater~ it was just for laughs, and believe us, it was funny~"

Lastly, her table in the far back where she was seated with her two bullies, the taunts and names they aimed at her never reaching the ears of the teacher or other students. With just the three of them, the fourth seat empty and awaiting a new child, they were free to, instead of drawing and being friendly like the other kids, ruin her pictures and make fun by acting rude to her. It was a hobby of theirs that didn't get old, the boys finding her reactions funnier than if they called the other girls stupid, a scaredy cat, or a crybaby.

"L-leave me alone," she whispered out, finding the strength somewhere to bend down to her bag and rummage through it, distracting herself from them.

Lifty cupped his chin in his hand, elbow supporting him as he shared a snicker with his brother. She was just making this all the more fun the way she was trying to brush them off~ "Why should we? You're not doing anything right now—"

"—and we gave Mr. Lumpy a rubix cube so he's not gonna be looking over here for about," Shifty lifted the Hello Kitty watch he had stolen from Giggles to eye level, "a few days, maybe." Along with being a dimwit, he was not only slow, but also seemed to forget that he had a class to run and look after the kids in it . . a lot.

"So it's a perfect time to not leave you alone~ don't ya think so?"

Exhaling, she grabbed her pencil from its pouch and turned to her desk again. Flaky took one of the blank sheets that Sniffles had passed out at the start of class and hunched down over it. Her eraser top, an adorable porcupine squishy that she had talked Flippy into getting her, moving with every line she made.

She could sense one of the twins staring intensely at her, the second boy rustling the papers as he took one for his own and began sketching a quick picture.

_Just ignore it_, her conscience told her, _they can't do anything if you don't talk to them_ . . .

"Hey, Flaky," Lifty, the twin who had taken the paper from the tiny stack, snapped his fingers at her. His lips were turned up in bemusement as she stared up at him through a curtain of wavy hair. The picture was hidden beneath his arm, leaving her curiosity to imagine what lay under it.

"You want to see what I drew~?"

Contemplating on whether she should look at his drawing or not, it could always be another doodle that would make fun of her appearance in it, she tapped the desk with the end of her pencil. If she didn't look, there was a possibility they'd corner her after class or in the big field, stuffing it in her face and maybe making her eat it.

That wasn't what she wanted, she decided and looked to the held up picture, lips parting in recognition of who he had drawn and the amount of red on the page.

"W-what's that!?" She grabbed the corner of the picture, only to have him slide it out in a quick flourish, a reddening paper cut left on the skin of her tender palm. The pain from the thin wound was nothing compared to the emotions rising in her chest and up her throat at the paper, the young girl taking offense to it though it hadn't anything that made fun of her.

The drawing was sloppily scribbled over with a red colored pencil, the white from the page showing through, some places darker where he had pressed down harder. The bad coloring job wasn't the only gruesome thing on there, for in the center of the page was a man holding the head of a decapitated citizen, a demented smile carved in his face.

Darker spots circling him and dripping from the neck of the person in puddles, it was a disturbing picture to be drawn in such a friendly environment. Defiantly not school appropriate.

The twins, snickering at her mortified expression, pointed to the name written in its bottom left corner.

Flippy.

"We heard Mr. Lumpy talking to someone over the phone yesterday—"

"—and he was talking about some people being killed a few days back—"

"—at the music store~ we heard your Flippy's name in it, too."

"What do you think, Flaky? Do you think Flippy would like our picture as much as he liked the one you drew him? It looks just like him don't ya think~"

Flaky shut her eyes, face changing from its regular peach tone to an angered pink, then a vicious red as she tried ignoring their in sync voices.

"Why doesn't Flippy ever go to the parent meetings, huh? Is it cuz all the parents are scared of him or what? I've never even seen him out in public for parties and junk."

Shifty smiled widely in a Cheshire Cat grin, motioning Lifty to come closer as he put a hand to his mouth and whispered, "Or maybe he's just a freak, then we'd know where Flaky got it from~" He had wanted her to hear him. That part was obvious. That's why he hadn't bothered to lower his voice when he began whispering to his lookalike.

"No kidding, it's almost like they were made for each other. But, he'll probably just kill her one da—"

"Shut up! Just stop talking!"

They stopped talking, her shouting taking them by surprise.

Flaky, fuming at the bad things that were being said about her friend, glared at them. She wasn't in control of her actions, and afterwards when she told Lumpy that he wouldn't believe her; her anger took over her then. She stood up, chair falling backwards, and snatched the paper from his hand.

The noises of the class, laughing, talking, and screaming, paused as all eyes turned to the back to see where the ripping sound of paper came from. Gaining a shock when they saw Flaky panting, face a bright red, and throw down the drawing that was now ripped in half, they merely stared at the group.

". . ." Nutty, grabbing a hold of the situation, jumped up onto his seat and pointed at her. He slapped a hand to his cheek and started the most annoying thing that little kids could do when another person got in trouble. "Oooohh! FLAKY RIPPED LIFTY'S PAPER! Ooooh! Mr. Lumpy!"

The group caught on to what he was saying, a chorus of "Oooohh"s and "She's gonna get in trouble" coming from every mouth.

Flaky's pants softened as she realized what she had done, straightening and ears burning when she saw the faces of her friends turned at her. She curled her fingers together and repeated that it was an accident . . Lifty had spited her in the first place! It wasn't fair!

"N-no I didn't . . !"

Lumpy, attention pulled from the rubix cube by the commotion, heard Nutty yelling his head of green hair off and pointing both fingers at Flaky. He had never had problems with the girl before, she was one of his nicest, quietest students, but he was a man to believe that people always changed.

He walked from his desk, shushing the riled up children, and stopped in front of the group of three. The adult raised an eyebrow at Flaky, her mouth gaping and shutting, and he asked, "What's the problem?"

Flaky stammered, embarrassed at having drawn enough attention to herself that the teacher had to come over and ask her what was wrong. "I-I was trying to d-do my work a-and—"

"And then she ripped my paper out of nowhere!" Lifty's accusation was blurted out. He wiped his eyes, voice turning shaky and thick as he tried to force tears out – Shifty helped by stepping on his toes. "I was working and t-then she just took it from me and ruined it!"

"She should get in trouble! That was mean!" Shifty stuck his tongue out at her, Lumpy having turned and waited for her side of the story.

"Well?"

"T-that's not what happened! They're lying!"

"You're lying! You ripped my paper and didn't even say sorry!"

"Y-yeah but that's because—"

"See!" Lifty crossed his arms, hiding his amusement he got from being able to trick their teacher so easily. "She said she did it!"

Shaking her head in efforts of relieving the guilt from above her head, she gave her teacher a look that pleaded for him to believe her. Was he actually buying this? From Lifty and Shifty? The students who lied most in his class?

Lumpy sighed and told Flaky to grab her bag, lecturing her about the class rules that said to be respectful and polite to others while he led her to the empty desk in the front of the room. "I thought you knew better than this, Flaky. I've never had a problem with you before, so why today?"

Knowing that she would never be able to explain it to him before he got distracted by some shiny piece of tinfoil or a cross word puzzle, she shrugged, dropped her bag and sat down in the seat, the back of her head facing the wonder filled stares of her friends.

The teacher leaving and going back to the play cooking station, Flaky was left to stare dully at the walls with her head in her arms. Stupid, dumb, meanie boys. Thought they could do anything just because they were older and taller than her. But . . had they been telling the truth about what Lumpy had been saying . .

**xXx**

**I finally got a somewhat plot for this, yeeess~ Remember, bullying is wrong (even though I'm guilty of being a jerk to my friends c:), but then again, who wouldn't want to be bullied by little twins who steal your stuff? xD *goes to drink lead paint***


	5. Fleeing

**This is a continuation of chapter four because I need it~**

**xXx**

"So we all know what's for homework tonight?" Lumpy clapped his hands, forgetting himself what he had assigned to them only minutes before.

"Yes Mr. Lumpy," the class responded together, kids shuffling around and putting their crayons in their backpacks.

Sniffles, though, sat staring at the board with an unsatisfied expression, lips pursed together and fingers tapping his pencil box. He raised his right hand above his head. "Um, Mr. Lumpy, can we get more difficult homework? My mom says that coloring a horse — when we're not even staying inside the lines — isn't how I'm going to get into a good college."

There always was that student who decided that he would be the one who'd remind the teacher that they needed actual work—like they didn't have better things to be wasting their time on.

Lumpy stopped cleaning the board's erasers against his pants, black ashy smudges standing out against the lightness of the blue. His lazy eyes stared to the ceiling, blankness mirrored from them and an endless void of stupidity. Attention span small, he hadn't pondered on the question more than seven seconds, then resigned to throwing the erasers away. He had opened them that morning, so it was time to get new ones for tomorrow!

"Make sure you get your tables clean! I'm having a meeting today and I want everything to be in order."

"Is the principal gonna see our stuff?!" Cuddles asked and wished that the head of the school would see his creative piece of work. He had taken a magazine from his dad's drawers and cut and pasted a picture of a pretty lady on a paper from it, now he hoped that the principal would approve of it too.

"The principal? Oh!" Lumpy ducked behind his desk. Laughing, he straightened his back and held in his hands a cage with two live chickens in it. "No Silly Billy! My chickens need some time alone, they've been having problems with their marriage lately, so I gotta work it out between then! Pock pock pock!" He continued mimicking the birds' clucking while the kids around him made disgusted noises, squealing at the amount of feathers the two older chickens had molted.

Smiling slightly at her teacher's childish, highly peculiar, ways, Flaky brushed the eraser shavings off her desk. She threw her school supplies in her bags and swiftly stood up, ready to make the voyage to the pick-up fence, alone, Lammy having gotten picked up early for a doctor's appointment.

From their half empty table, Shifty saw her get up and smiled, packing his own things and standing. He pushed his brother along, shoving kids aside as they neared her with fixated smirks. "Where you going, Flaky? Me and Lifty wanted to show you somethin' in—"

"P-Petunia!" Flaky interrupted, waving to the blue haired girl desperately and speeding away to reach her desk. "C-can I walk with y-you and Giggles today? I d-don't know when Flippy's going to pick me up and . . ." Fiddling with her hands, she inclined her head to the grinning twins, whispering, "Please, can I walk with y-you?"

Sensing her friend's distress, Petunia took a minute, holding a stare with one if the boys and shuddering as they smiled widely, sharpened teeth being showed off, before she nodded and stiffly grabbed her hand. "Yeah, sure, no problem?"

Moving her hand to her shoulder protectively, she said, "Don't tell me, it's those two, again. You need to tell Mr. Lumpy. Then he'll move you, maybe you'll even get Nutty's old seat?"

Changing her spot in the seating chart would be a joy so she wouldn't have to deal with the two's shenanigans, but moving to Nutty's old seat wasn't what she wanted. For one reason, the brothers would find some way to convince their idiot teacher to move them using Shifty's way with words, and the second:

The afro kid was a weirdo. A borderline pervert for someone so young. And she didn't want to be seated by him the rest of the year.

"N-no thanks," Flaky replied in a hushed tone, disliking to think of bringing the teacher into such a trifle of a problem. It was minor and didn't need to be dealt with by him, she could handle it. Dragging him in would result in bigger problems that wouldn't be resolved easily, so she would simply carry the burden of her bullies. They had to stop sometime.

"Mm, okay, but if they mess with you," Petunia punched her fist in her hand. "Tell me and I'll . . have Handy beat them up!" She hadn't been aware that she would be sending an armless boy into a fight, where it was two against one.

"Oh n-no! No fighting! Just — erm — let's just g-go right now, I don't think Mr. Lumpy remembered to let us go."

The teacher was at his desk, triumphantly holding a chicken up by its legs and ignoring its flapping and clucks of complain. Preoccupied, he wasn't going to say that they could leave. It had happened the first day of school where he had forgotten to say to leave, and they had stayed an extra hour until the principal had knocked on the door asking where all the children were at.

Petunia gave her bag to Handy, it going by unnoticed that he hadn't caught it and was angrily trying to pick it up using his mouth.

She and Giggles spoke, arguing over which member of a pop group they listened to was cuter, Flaky clinging on her arm. She was stuck on her like glue as they spilled from the classroom and dispersed, going to their assigned gates and buses. It was sheer luck that she was on the same bus as Petunia, or else she would be on her own.

"No! He is not cuter than Zeen! Luiz is okay, but Zeen is cooler and his hair is so perfectly done up!"

Flaky didn't understand how they could talk about boys that they hadn't met, one of the many wonders of being a sports player than a girly child. Drawing further away with each sentence about this member, and that member, and hair gel, it took longer for her to feel the hairs of her neck standing as the eyes of another bored into her.

Looking behind her, she cringed when she saw the pair if glowing emerald eyes staring through her. Having her gaze on them, they both held up two shiny, laminated cards, their pictures on them. Their names were switched around, they had chosen to switch places on picture day, but with their identical looks, no one could tell.

The cards . . .

Bus passes.

**xXx**

Flaky shook in her seat, waving meekly at Petunia, and at her mother picking her up.

The bus had arrived at its stop on time, an average event, and Petunia had gotten off. Leaving her to fend for herself amongst the rough crowd that varied of first to sixth graders.

Their voices rose over each other's to be heard by friends, resulting in the uproars and screams exiting the windows. It was equivalent to if they had been shouting in her ear with how obnoxiously loud they were being.

While all other students hollered, torsos hanging from the windows and over seats, there were two conspicuous boys sitting in the back, constantly looking at one another and laughing secretively. They shared their inside joke as balled up papers and bags of half eaten chips were thrown around them, eyes locked on the fidgeting redhead.

Sinking in her seat, Flaky put her forehead against the glass, disheartened. And she stayed that way until the bus pulled into its next stop, the driver unbuckling his seat belt and walking down the steps holding a stop sign.

Cuddles, seeing his younger friend get up and walk through the crowded aisle, threw his arms over the seat and grinned. "Bye Flaky! Tell Flippy he's still awesome!"

"Wha—?" Flaky took sidestepped and avoided a dropped backpack. "F-Flippy? Okay, I'll tell him that . . !"

Cuddles gave a thankful smile. Because, ever since the day he had seen the war veteran flex and completely outshine Splendid when it came to muscle mass, he had had a not-so-secret admiration for him. One day, he would be that strong, and then all the ladies would come flocking to him!

That's what he liked to believe, and with the steady diet of carrots and junk food he ate every day, there was no doubt he'd be that size. Just watch.

"Ha! Thanks! And tell him, tell him, that I said that and that Giggles wants to see his boulder muscles too! It's what Toothy and me talk about all the time!"

"U-um I will, he'll be happy to h-hear that . ."

"And also—" The smile was wiped off his face and changed to be alert, his hands tensing up on the seat. For in the back of the bus, the two mischief makers had gotten up as well and stepped into the walkway.

An angry fifth grader whose backpack had been trotted on by one called them out, Shifty smiling wickedly and replying with a quick tongue. The year's younger student had put out the fire in the boy's words to a steaming pile of charred ashes.

Leaving him with mocking teases from his friends, they shoved past the children leaning out from their seats and sending them scrambling to clutch their bags protectively. The boys might have been young and cocky, but together they had stolen something from every person on that bus. Be it a pencil, to lunch money, to cell phones that were left in unattended pockets.

Cuddles knew that the twins weren't nice to Flaky — or anyone. And he also knew about how fearful she was when they came near, leaning into the comfort of a friend and staying far from them.

Ducking, he waved Flaky to hurry up. "Hey! Alert! Alert! Flaky, ooklay ehindbay ouyay!"

Did he think that she knew the secret code he and Toothy used with each other, because he was speaking Spanish or whatever. Flaky looked to where he had, frustrated, pointed at when she raised a brow at the Pig Latin.

"Looks like the Terrible Twins are coming, and they already got you in trouble today, what if they wanna get you kicked off the bus right now — like for real kicked off?!" He was picturing them picking her up and throwing her out the window, unless they went with the actual kicking.

Gulping as she saw them yelling at a kid to move his pack, Flaky nodded briskly. "T-thanks, Cuddles, I'll go right n-now."

"And don't worry," Cuddles pulled his bunny eared hood over his head and tugged on his zipper, raising it over his chin and covering his mouth. "When they come, I'll use my ninja skills, and trip 'em!"

"H-heh, I really do owe you then, b-bye!" Squeezing through two sixth grade girls talking and raising their painted nails, she scrambled up the walkway and hopped down the steps.

"Alright Cuddles, gotta blend in with the seat, silence is the key! Be one with the seat! One with the seat~" He chuckled and stuck one slippered foot out, turning his head to the glass and humming.

"Next time, move your backpack!" Shifty hissed and kicked the dropped sharpener and notebooks away. "Stupid."

Lifty patted the boy's cheek and snickered at the smacking noise it made instead. "Why so shocked~? Close your mouth, adults says that flies will make babies in there, you dummy."

Halfway down the parting path leading to the front, Shifty stopped and held his brother back. They followed the leg with the slipper wearing foot through half lidded eyes.

"Hey Cuddles," Lifty nudged the foot away and walked past him, "move your foot before someone steps on it."

He stared after them, knowing his plan had failed to buy Flaky any time whatsoever.

Flaky had trudged and made it to the midpoint, marked by a growing oak tree, of the street when she heard the yelling. The bus rushed past her, sending up loose newspapers and trash, and as it did, she squinted at the blonde waving his hand out the window.

"Flaky!" yelled Cuddles as the yellow vehicle grew further. "Flaky I'm sorry! My plan didn't work! Run Flaky, run! I'll see you at school tomorrow, maybe!?"

His plan hadn't worked—she hadn't predicted that it would, but maybe it'd at least give her some time to walk far enough ahead of them. Then they wouldn't bother running to catch her.

"Hey! Hey you! Flaky hold up!"

"Where you going? I said that Lifty and I had something to show you! Why are you walking so fast? Come back, we're not gonna do anything!"

That was a lie. Whenever they told her to come back, they'd give her a noogie and say that she was an idiot for listening. There was no way she'd wait for them.

Shifty growled and pushed his fedora further down on his head. She had broken out in sprints, thinking that it was possible to outrun the boys who were born into speed, needing it to steal what they wanted in a flash.

"Lifty," he snapped and pointed down the block to their side, "round that corner and go through the alley, make it quick, I'll go this way."

Lifty nodded and took off, snickering and disappearing as he turned the corner.

"You wanted to run, let's see who's faster." Grinning at the prospect of a race, the twin was soon bolting in her direction.

Flaky's bag hit her leg in a continuous pattern and matched her shortened gasps. Shifty's shouted taunts boosted her levels of adrenaline, despite the blistering sun that was likely burning her sweating face. Her hair was thrown back unceremoniously, strands tangling and flapping in the dry weather.

The devilish twins hadn't perused her like this yet, they were usually lazy, letting her slip through their fingers without much of a fight. They must be in a trickster's mood, then, if they wanted so badly to corner her this time, and in this weather.

"Flaky you better run faster! You're so slow!~ it's like running after a little snail!" Shifty called, exhilarated by the chase and figuring in his head when his brother would come into the action. "Run home, Flaky! It's fun to see you try!"

"W-why can't you leave me alone!?" wailed the red haired girl, her legs on fire and changing to where the blood flowing through them turned into lead. "I h-haven't done anything to y-you!"

Weakness was the answer. They picked on her because she left herself vulnerable to their mean comments and she didn't try to stop them. While other kids would have told the teacher at the first insult, she had kept it contained in her. And with no punishment, they assumed that they would be able to get away with anything they did to her.

She had built, trapped, and locked her own prison when she kept her lips sealed about why she would have a bruise of her arm, or why her scars went deeper than just physical, but also mental.

Her subconscious would force her mind to store away whatever offensive comment they spat at her, so she hardly recalled the things that would happen, but she did know that what they called, and did to, her hurt. . . .

"S-Shifty! Go away—WAAH!" Heels digging into the sidewalk, she skidded to a stop, inches from ramming into the chest of the masked boy who had ran out from nowhere. He had just appeared, when she had thought he was behind her with his twin!

"Heh," Lifty brushed his sweaty bangs from his forehead and glared at the sun. "Didn't think we'd split up~ did ya, dumb little girl."

Whimpering, she backed away, her hands held in front of her. "D-don't c-come any closer . . ! J-just let me go hom—"

The stomping of feet on the cement slowed as Shifty's presence became known. He painted lightly, his teeth bone white against the shadow the brim of his hat gave. "Is the big baby whining to go home~ wah, wah, that's all you do. Cry all the time, it's sad, but to us it's pretty funny."

Lifty used his fists to rub under his eyes and pretend he was crying, imitating her. "F-Flippy! Flippy! Waahh! Lifty and Shifty a-are being so mean to me! H-hurt them!" He dropped his fists to his sides and shook his head, walking clockwise around her along with his replica.

Each circle growing tighter as they stalked, Flaky felt the burning tears rushing to her eyes. She wanted to be out of the reach of these two and in the warm embrace of her guardian's arms. She would be protected there, not having worries that involved bullies.

"G-go a-away—"

"What if we don't want to go away? You can't make us, you want to know why you can't? Because you're small, we're bigger than you, there's one of you, there's two of us, and" —Shifty jabbed her shoulder harshly, and strong enough to make her take a supporting step back— "You're too weak to even fight back. I could just shove you, and you couldn't do anything about it."

During the jab, Lifty had slowed his pace and watched curiously. Sure they had pulled her hair and maybe tripped her a few dozen times, but they hadn't actually done any physical harm to her yet . . . But it was okay, his brother was doing it and he was older, so it must've been alright to do.

Flaky whimpered again, his slender digit digging into her collarbone. She took another step closer to the end of the sidewalk.

"Push." The eldest boy forced her back two more inches. "Shove." More force; five inches. "Come on Flaky, do something, quit being stupid and stop me~"

Lifty stood at the sidelines silently, frowning when he saw Shifty push her with both hands, and the girl submissively letting him do it. "Shift? Shifty? Hey we've gotta color for homework, so maybe we should leave right now?"

"Yeah yeah, right now, just wait." Both hands again and she was at the sidewalk edge, teeth biting down on her lip.

"But . . we should just do this tomorrow at school . . Shifty, can we please leave?"

Shifty looked at him, eyes narrowing and voice full of sarcasm. "Can we please leave? Why would I wanna wait for tomorrow when I can do it right now?"

He crossed his arms and shrugged, turning his stare to the cracks in the cement. "Dunno, just feel weird doing this."

"Wuss. And cuz you said that," Shifty backed off, giving access to the removing girl and smiling. "I'm gonna let you be the one to push her last~ do it, or else we're not going to the house yet."

Sending him a look of exasperation, Lifty stared at her hesitantly, spotting the watering, pleading eyes behind her hair. "I really don't want—"

"Then we're not going home yet. We're gonna play with Flaky all day until you do it."

"You want me to push her so badly? Well look at me," —he put his hands on her shoulders, feeling the shudder that wracked her tiny frame— "I'm gonna do it."

Nodding as a sign to go on, Shifty sneered at the betrayed look on her face. Why should she feel betrayed? She should've known that he would do it; he hadn't helped her before, why start now.

Not daring to meet her hopeless, crimson eyes, the younger boy said below a whisper, "I'll try to make him stop." before he shut his eyes and shoved her with the most strength he could muster.

She didn't release a cry of pain as expected, but she let a fat tear roll down her cheek and land on the road when she fell from the sidewalk. Her palms that had been just about healed were scraped up again and the back of her sweater dirtied, wobbly knees pushed together as she withheld her sob.

"Now can we g—"

"How many times do I need to say to back off, you bratty little kids," the anger suppressed voice came.

The thieves, looking like dogs who had just been smacked with newspapers, hadn't had a chance to run away before strong hands curled around their ankles and whisked them up from the ground.

"A-aahh! Let go!"

They dangled in midair, arms flailing and shirts sliding down, Shifty's hat falling off, and the hot breath of an upset solider on their face. Green eyes pierced into green eyes as Flippy lowered his brows menacingly. The orbs flicked from Flaky's downcast form to the caught offenders.

"Why did you push her."

"W-we didn't push her!" Lifty cried.

"I didn't push her! Lifty did it! Not me!" his betraying brother said, contradicting the earlier statement.

The two's clashing as they argued who was right, blaming the other to get off Scott free, only put wood on the fire of his anger. "Do you think I care _who_ did it, I want to know _why_ you did it. Now shut up, stop your pathetic fighting, and answer the question." He shook them once for emphasis on just how serious he was. "Answer!"

"S-she fell! We were trying to help her get up!"

"Help! Help us! We're gonna get eaten!" Shifty shouted. "By a crazy man! He's gonna break our bones! Heeelllppp!"

"Yeah! Somebody help us! He's hurting me!"

They were like two rats being held up by their tails. Squeaking helplessly and trapped by their enemy.

"HELP!"

And when any citizen cried for help, who else was there to answer it? A hero dressed in blue and a love for baking, that's who.

Splendid, upon hearing the repeated screams of terror and callings for help, had dropped his pan of baked goods and burst through his door in his hurry—breaking through a passing by van unknowingly and causing it to explode. He was that good.

He had flown past the school, had a near collision with a bus full of children, and met face to bark with a tree. After uprooting and throwing it into oblivion for being in his way, he had gone back to the rescue mission that had brought him just blocks from one of his friend's home.

Splendid floated down majestically on the roof of a house, fists on his hips, and eyeing the sad scene before him. He knew that his friend had problems controlling his anger . . . but taking them out on children was wrong. And having Flaky watch him do it, she was shaking and crying by just watching it!

"You know that's not the real answ—!"

"Ehem," they looked towards the roof, Flippy sighing at the prospect of having to associate with the terrible hero. "I couldn't help but hear a cry for help? Bada dada! It's your neighborhood hero, Splendid!" He alighted down to the sidewalk and tisked. "Flippy, you're not a bad guy, but getting your kicks by picking on kids? That's sick. You're sick."

The solider was given a slap on the wrist as Splendid took the brothers from his hold, setting one on his shoulder and holding the other in his arms. "You be nice to kids, you big bully. How would you feel if someone bigger than you decided they wanted to shake you? Tsk, tsk, you're an adult, so stop acting like a kid!"

He couldn't have processed the situation more wrong, switching the roles so Flippy was the bad guy now.

"I don't get my 'kicks' by messing with children, moron, I was trying to—" He was, again, cut off, much to his annoyance.

"Ah ah ah, I suppose I can let this one slide, just once. But next time I see you being mean to these two—you're in for a real lecture about being mature."

During the conversation, Lifty had looked at his brother from his place on the hero's shoulders. They grinned at the opportunity, taking it.

"By any chance, were you bullied as a child? Maybe that has to do with why you wanna—Ey!" The hero's mask was pulled off by a snickering Lifty, but he had covered his face before any skin was shown.

Shifty shimmed out of his arms and landed on the floor. He swung his leg back, and with one well aimed hit, kicked the adult in the shin. Laughing when down came the mighty Splendid tree, he pulled his twin from his shoulders. "Let's get out of here!"

Lifty threw the mask down and stepped on it spitefully. "Ha! Okay, thanks a lot Splendummy!"

"We owe you big time~!"

Flippy didn't try stopping them from fleeing, even going as far as stepping aside to let them go. He was too amused, anger boiling down, at how the oh so strong hero had gotten doped by kids.

Splendid, covering his eyes with a hand, shook the other at the retreating manipulators. "You bunch of no good kids! Come back here! Get back here so I can give you a lesson on how to withstand a kick in the butt by me! Next time I see you, oh, you'll get it, do you hear me!?"

"And you were telling me how it was wrong to bully kids?"

While Splendid began ranting about how the younger generation wasn't as kind as he remembered being, Flaky timidly crawled onto the sidewalk. She sat on her knees, hesitantly reaching and grabbing the abandoned hat.

Shifty's fedora.

She searched the street for him, but they had already fled, leaving no traces behind besides the head ware. Knowing that Flippy would want to burn it, she opened her bag, making room for it, and put the fedora in.

She'd return it someday.

**xXx**

**Ceheheh. *ties cinderblocks to Crystal's legs and throws her in a pool after tattooing my name all over her face* I claim that property as MINE!**

**This came out longer than I anticipated (but I'm making the twins such meanies xD), yayyy. Don't worry, semi-plot is on the way, I just needed to add this in there for something else . . ^-^**


	6. Doctor's (Psychiatrist's) Office

Flippy sat staring wearily at the bottle of prescriptions. His hands were locked together and under his chin, foot tapping lightly as he didn't want to wake the child. The sound resonated from the wood flooring and penetrated his distant thoughts, arousing him out of his clouded mind. Vision creating a hazy edge on the kitchen, he knew he was close to falling back to sleep.

The filtered light of the window was in a squared shape, strewn onto the floor and warming the lazy body of his dog. His moist black nose twitched as the rays hit him, but, besides rolling on his back and hanging his paws in the air, the animal gave no signs that it'd be rising soon.

He wished he could sleep as well as his canine companion, without having to worry about waking before Flaky was up sometimes. He'd tell her, exclaim when she was up early, and say that she had beaten him. But that wasn't true—he hated having to lie to her about that. She wouldn't understand if he tried explaining it to her though; she would ask questions he didn't know how to answer.

Questions he couldn't answer.

She would start prying if she realized he was dodging her questions and giving her riddled answers. She might've been nothing but a kid, but she had wits to make up for her size. Flaky wouldn't comprehend why he wasn't telling her what was burdening him. She was so used to having personal conversations with her guardian and the chance to lay anything on the table before him.

Honest and pure, that's how he wanted to keep her until she was older. He didn't want her childhood ruined by things he had let slip through traitorous lips, sending her back into the secluded room of her mentality she had only recently left. That wasn't something he wanted to risk, her happiness was all he needed to keep from wallowing in himself. The girl was his key to staying calm and keeping her safe, and if that meant keeping her oblivious and spinning lies, he'd do it. Whatever it took.

The pills were there thanks to a blue haired hero, Splendid pulling him aside and sliding the bottle into his pocket while Flaky was brushing her smudged sweater.

His unrealistic anger towards the two rotten children had parted and let his seriousness through, sky blue eyes beaming into him as he said that this batch was going to work. Lumpy had ordered it, triple checking and assuring he had the right medicine unlike the last order he placed, and promised it would be adequate. It had to work, they had tried everything else and the sessions weren't making progress besides getting what anger he had under control. It was luck that he hadn't had a "fit" around Flaky yet, how would he explain that and keep her from running away screaming? . .

These pills, they would help him. They had to.

Flippy uncapped the bottle and shook two into his palm. He threw them into his mouth and dry swallowed, sighing deeply and putting his face into his hands. His shoulders dropped in exhaustion and he allowed his strong demeanor to slip for an instance.

"What are you doing?" A tired voice inquired from the doorway.

Jumping and sitting straight, Flippy snatched the bottle and dropped it in his sweater's front pocket. He smiled at Flaky's bedraggled look as she used her fist to rub her eyes sleepily. "Good morning to you, too, kiddo. How'd you sleep?"

She wasn't as stupid as he wished her to be sometimes. Even in her dozing state she spotted the medicine he had hidden. "What w-was that?"

"What was what?" he dodged.

"T-the thing you put away," said Flaky, edging to him and stopping when she reached the chair he occupied. "What was it? It k-kind of looked like a . . a bottle thing."

"Allergies." Flippy answered shortly. "They're pills for my allergies . . . But you don't need to worry about it, go get ready for school, and don't forget to pack your markers just in case. Remember you're going to Pop's later."

Pop was his first choice for a babysitter. Flippy still insisted that she needed an adult to look after her though she was able to be careful! She knew the basics of being safe—don't touch open outlets, don't stick your fork into the toaster, and don't grab anything that's fresh out of the oven. There wasn't a cause that dealt with her that meant she'd need supervision.

Flaky was looking at him for another ten seconds, curiosity and the want to pry into what he was doing clear. "Cub's going to be there, t-too?"

His answer of yes was enough to quench her perusing questions and send her marching to her room.

If only she was dim like the average child, then this would be much easier.

**xXx**

"What do you mean you can't babysit Flaky today?!" Flippy's voice rose with discontent.

"I'm sorry, Flippy," Pop said from the other line, "but I just can't take her today. Cub's been coming down with the flu and I have to take him to the doctor's. I was going to inform you sooner, son, but it just hit him yesterday."

Flippy brushed his fingers through his lime green locks. "Uh, then that's fine, I'll think of someone who could take care of her. It's okay Pop, go take him to get his vaccine?"

"I'm sorry again, if I could take her I would. But I doubt you'd want her sneezing on everything when she catches it too. If only I had seen the signs." —Cub had a temperature for two days already, and thrown up a few times, what more signs did he need? "I would've prevented this." No he wouldn't have.

"O . . kay then . . I'll talk to you later Pop, Flaky's coming any minute and I have to tell her about it."

"I suppose I should've known Cub was sick when I changed his diaper, or when he vomited, but what am I? A doctor? How was I supposed to know that—"

"Goodbye, Pop!" He really hadn't wanted to hear about how the bad father had ignored his son's sickness.

"Flippy?" Flaky called opening the door and putting away her house key. She dropped her bag by the couch, walking to the kitchen doorway where he came out from.

Flippy frowned slightly, tapping his fingers on his arm. "How was your day?" She replied that it was fine. "That's good, do you know what Lammy's doing today? Is she busy?"

"I think s-so, she told me that on T-Tuesdays she goes to see this man in a room and they talk."

Lammy was out then. A man in a room?

"Giggles? Petunia?"

"They're going to watch a movie with Handy and C-Cuddles. And they said it's going to be r-rated R and super scary!" Her friends were such bad kids, thinking they could get into a rated R movie when they were three feet tall.

Damn. Where was he going to drop her off then? Splendid would likely be busy also, and every other adult wasn't free in some way. He couldn't leave her home by herself, he trusted her but the foreboding feeling was there, so the only other place she could go was . .

With him.

The thought was concerning, but there wasn't a chance that anything bad could occur. He would take caution and guarantee that she was sitting in the lobby while he went to his session. She wouldn't go further than the receptionist's desk.

"Rated R? At least it's not gonna be me staying up all night having to deal with nightmares," Flippy snorted. He grabbed his car keys and threw Flaky a granola bar—which she ducked while squeaking. "Change of plans kiddo, Pop can't take you today so you're coming with me, doesn't that sound fun?"

Flaky stared up at him, bar in her clutches, and blinked. Fun? "B-but I don't even know where you go . . Y-yay . . ?"

"You should be saying yay! It's so fun and you'll get to do your homework there." He swung her bag up off the floor and went from the kitchen to the door. Pushing her along, he locked it and walked down the path.

Flaky scurried to keep pace. "W-what do you do over there?"

"I'm not sure," Flippy said, picking her up and strapping her in the car seat. He frowned in irritation when the buckle wouldn't clip and reduced to clacking the metal against the plastic.

Flaky guided his hand and easily clipped it, giggling at his blow out of annoyed air.

"T-then how do you know it's fun?"

"Because every time I come out, I feel kinda better, like I released some sort of pent up steam, you know?"

The redhead unwrapped her snack and took a small nibble, saving the rest for later. "Better? Maybe y-you have the same thing as Lammy . . She says when she t-talks to the man he listens to everything and helps her not be angry . ."

Flippy knew what weird was, and he felt that that word described Lammy perfectly.

The car ride passed with the radio turned on low and the windows rolled down. Flaky shut her eyes against the wind and rested them as they drove through the town. They arrived at the facility as she began nodding off.

Flaky lazily held her arms out for the soldier to carry her. She could walk just fine, but it took too much effort trying to jump down from the jeep. If he carried her, it was easier!

The height and looks of the building were intimidating to someone the size of the tiny girl. She clung to his head like it was a life line as they walked through the double doors.

The waiting room was empty and silent, excluding a woman with blonde hair sitting behind the receptionist desk. Her fingers pressed the letters of a keyboard, eyes glued to the computer screen and lips pursed. She hadn't looked up, and the door had no sort of chime, but she somehow knew when the duo had entered. "Flippy, you're right on time," her said, voice unappealing to the ears with the nasal problem she had.

"Hello," said Flippy, sitting Flaky on a chair and putting the bag strap over the back. His moves casual, he leaned on the desk, voice hushed and stare holding hers; he didn't like the look she was giving to his friend. It implied that she didn't belong there. "Can you keep an eye on her while I'm in?"

"Didn't we tell you not to bring kids here, what part of no children didn't you understand?" She was back to typing and reading the tiny words.

He didn't know how she was able to read the smashed together sentences and blocky paragraphs, type, and recall a rule he had forgotten about already. Leaning further in, he said, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave her home to be alone. Can you just look out for and see that she doesn't go anywhere? I'm gonna be gone forty minutes at most, I'll tell Lumpy it's urgent that I leave earlier, and then she'll be out of your hair. Would you want that face to be left in a heated car or by herself?"

The receptionist peered over her steel rimmed glasses at Flaky, smiling and letting the tiniest bit of warmness show towards the little girl's giant, curious filled eyes examining the interior of the facility. Though it left as quickly as it came, the blonde regaining her rigid composure. "If I have to, then fine, I'll watch over her, but get out here right when your session has ended."

"Thank you, and I promise I will, do I ever come out late?" Flippy asked and motioned to Flaky that he was going in. He felt the girl's concerned gaze in his back as he treed down the door filled hall. She was resisting the want to run and cling to his leg and accompanying him to what place he was heading.

Flaky wormed in the hard leather seat and attempted getting semi-comfortable. She tried sitting cross legged, on her knees, pressing her back stiffly to the chair, and the furthest being when she threw her legs over the seat's arm. Her shoulders were hunched, a holder jabbed against her spleen, and her legs stretched in the air. Watching with a puckered mouth, she dismissed any chance of her being comfortable and resigned to the simple sitting.

As a distraction, she imagined what Flippy was going through. This building didn't seem friendly and neither did the employees, the blonde hadn't been muffins and sunshine herself, so she couldn't pin it down. He had stated that it was fun, partially relaxing perhaps, and that meant they weren't torturing her solider . . . But he hadn't clarified what fun was.

His definition of fun could have been reading documents about wars or boring battles. The kinds that teachers would rave on about, saying they were important to remember and the students had to memorize every last date, in monotone voices.

That wasn't very fun, but if it bored him to sleep she could see how that was relaxing.

Eyelids lowering, she followed the swinging tail of a classic Felix the Cat clock. It was hung on the wall behind the receptionist's, reading 3:59 and the red hand nearing the big twelve. Flaky anticipated that it would have some gag to it, but she couldn't contain her titter of joy when it struck four o'clock and the cat's eyes stopped, a recorded mewling sounding.

The older woman stared, disapproving of the sudden ruckus, at Flaky and brought a finger to her lips. She shushed her and went back to typing. Kids were so noisy when they needed to be quite the most, couldn't they be duct taped until they were eighteen and grown up?

The blonde was already reminding Flaky of a neighborhood oldie that barked at any person, child or adult, who spoke "too" loud or played on his lawn. He would sit on his porch every day and shout at whoever was admiring his roses, throwing rocks at the kids skipping by his house and making noise. On the upside, she even had the bite in her sharp crystal eyes and forehead lines!

Sighing, Flaky took her granola bar out and relished in the chocolate chips of it. She wanted to ask the lady where her friend had gone, but she felt that she'd be yelled at if she rose her voice an octave over nothing. Adults were like that, they seemed to have grown hearing that was highly sensitive and snapped at you when you spoke.

She was about to throw the wrapper in the waste basket by the exit, but a voluminous crash echoing from the hallway caused her toss to mess up.

Even with how alarming it was, the woman hadn't spared a glance to where it had generated from. She just kept on typing away and appeared unconcerned or uncaring for its cause.

Flaky, though, was staring towards the hall. If it was dangerous, then shouldn't the older woman dialed the phone for help and rushed her out? But she hadn't, and that was what perturbed her the most. How could a person so casually brush off a sound that was like a person tipping over a bookshelf when a minute before she had quieted her giggling? It was puzzling, and Flaky was set on investigating.

She slid from the seat and stepped nimbly as she didn't want the lady to put a stop to her actions, large eyes on the blonde in the event she noticed her. But the younger girl hadn't a worry, for she was absorbed in her work and didn't realize the child was gone, passing the desk-thanking that she was short and she head didn't raise over the top—and walking down the hall.

It wasn't any voodoo dolls or candle skulls like her mind had conjured up and made her believe, it was an average hallway. It contained a few wooden drawers that held exquisite Tiffany lamps and the windows were of stained glass, casting an array of colors on her peach skin as she passed beneath them.

Her footsteps were muffled on the red, diamond patterned carpeting, so she wasn't worried about the woman hearing her now. She was more concerned about how she was to find the room which the sound had boomed from. There were a limited count of doors, but on each were what she presumed names of doctors with their specialty scrawled on a plaque.

Now why would Flippy come here?

It wasn't until she reached the end of the hall, the corner angling off and another vast amount of doors in the new corridor, that she recognized a name. She traced her finger on the golden words and spelled it out loud, like Mr. Lumpy had told them.

"T-H-E M-O-L-E? The M-Mole?" Okay, now she was utterly confounded, but she read on. "T-treatment for the men . . tally . . mentally s-sick?"

Flippy had brought up The Mole only when he was on the phone with Splendid or Lumpy, but this couldn't be who he was coming to see . . . Mentally had to do with the brain, and Flippy wasn't sick from there. He wasn't, she would have noticed if he had trouble comprehending what other adults knew.

The Mole was treating another patient, she knew, and her solider was in the room that said "Treatment for the easily distracted"—If there was a room for refocusing. She would see who he was treating and leave, her hand was beginning to twitch and fidget with her sweater, a special sense that Flippy claimed warned her of trouble, and she wanted to go back to sitting on the rock hard chair.

Flaky grabbed the knob, stepping on the tips of her toes, and stretched to look through the rectangular slit of glass. Her breath fogged up the window as she stared through it, scanning the empty room and finding it unoccupied. That was strange, but even stranger was the overturned recliner and tossed down papers.

She had to go back, her hand shaking enough to rattle the knob, and wait for him to return instead of searching for his whereabouts.

This wasn't right, why would it be empty like that? There wasn't a sign that said the doctor was out.

So why?—

"AAAUUUHHH!" Flaky shrieked and fell on her bottom, eyes wide before she closed them. She breathed in air, but each time it felt like she wasn't getting any oxygen into her lungs. Heart pounding and threatening to crack her ribs, she whimpered, the picture painted on the insides of her eyelids.

She knew she should've gone back.

But she hadn't.

And as a punishment, she had seen what was even scarier than the movie her friends were going to see.

The Mole's face crushed to the window and smearing blood on its clean surface, his glasses cracked and blind blue eyes—the eyes—staring into her soul. He had stayed slammed against the door a moment before slipping down, the sound of his body thumping to the floor audible.

Flaky sat stone still, looking through her fingers and knees pressed together to stop her quaking, and speechless. She hadn't seen that, she hadn't seen The Mole pushed to the window, and she wasn't seeing the smears that colored it like the glass of the hallway windows. She hadn't seen it, but she was seeing the knob shaking as someone was trying to open it from the inside.

Released from her trance, Flaky crawled back, stumbling over her arms and getting up. Stumbling a few feet, she heard the rattling of the doorknob and pounding as the person got increasingly angered. They wanted to get out, and she didn't intend on being there when they did.

When, not if.

Going from petrified, to running like a gazelle being chased, she sped down the hall. Her breathing was ragged, and she had the feeling that someone was watching her retreating body. It sent a shock to her heart and a chill through her, but she continued running.

She would have kept fleeing until she reached their house, adrenaline pumping in her veins, if it weren't for the drawer leg that she tripped on. Screaming, she rolled and got rug burn on her previously damaged knees and hands. Flaky landed on her chest with a sharp cry.

Looking up, she didn't know where she was at, none of the doors looked familiar and she had the sickening realization that she might've gone down the hall to the left instead of behind her. And if that was true, that thing was going to find her. She could hear the pounding of a fist on wood in her ears, still there and getting louder when she covered them fearfully.

Hyperventilating and numb to the minor burns, she flinched, screaming shortly, when an assuring hand gripped her shoulder. They didn't hurt her, the touch gentle and protecting, as they pulled her into strong arms. One hand was tangled in her mess of hair comfortingly, the other rubbing her back and calming her gasps, and they asked softly, "Flaky, what did you see?"

"U-uncle S-S-Splendid . . !" Her pants were slowly being quieted, and the weight of what she had seen was settling on her shoulders. She gripped his red shirt in her hands, mouth quivering and eyes scrunching up, glad that it wasn't . . .

"What did you see?" Splendid asked again. He briefly checked her arms, scowling at the vicious red marks but glad that she wasn't hurt even worse. "You must've seen something to make you run like that, Flaky, what was it? You can tell me, it's okay, you're fine, just tell me what you saw."

Flaky gulped, stashing away her tears for later when she was alone. How was she to answer that? She couldn't tell him the truth, she didn't know what was true and what her imagination was. The Mole could've or couldn't have been true, as well with the knob shaking, she couldn't tell him that.

"N . . Nothing . . I-I didn't s-see anything . . A m-mouse was what scared me . . . I-I didn't m-mean t-to run like t-that, s-sorry."

A mouse, that's what it was.

**xXx**

**So I've figured most of this story out, except for a few chapters, and I am **_**not**_** leaving this fandom yet, for your info Crystal :3 I've got plans here! And this is where the stuff happens—I think.**

***waves hand in air weakly* too lazy to do anything Crystal, you live for now! :P**


	7. Is This Reality?

"Flaky! Flaky, sweetheart, wake up! It's time for breakfast!"

The scent of sizzling bacon wafted under the door crack and caressed the sleeping child's nose. A shift from under the covers as they puddled to the oaken flooring and a frizzy haired girl was sitting straight in the bed. The room was without clarity, everything a mesh of pink box shaped furniture, but everything in her sight soon sharpened.

Princess curtains were drawn shut, but a beam of light from the other rooms and hallways came through the door, it standing slightly ajar and permitting the delicious smell of breakfast to enter. The audible sound of popping as oil jumped in a frying pan paired with the delectable bacon scent only enticed her to shake her weariness away; she could take a short nap later if her developing body required it. She threw off the blankets that were her nightly cocoon and wearily slid from the comfort of her bed.

Flaky shimmed the loose shirt she occupied as sleepwear over her head, preferring to wear a play shirt with a picture of her favorite show. The beginning of her day always started in this familiar routine: She would be wakened by her mother or father, dress herself as she found it tiring to have to pester either parent to help her each morning, and from then on it would be onto school, her babysitter's dwelling, or whatever they planned for family activities. Every day was something new, so the routine didn't bother her as much as other things did. It was interesting, to say least.

One by one she grabbed the white hair clips from her dresser and pinned back the unmanageable red curls that had only gotten more untamed in her sleeping state. Done, she skipped into the bathroom across the hall from her room and gave her teeth a delicate scrubbing. That over and her mouth minty, she put her toothbrush back in its holder and stepped into the hall.

Morning light came from around the bend of the doorway that led into the kitchen. The soft voices of her parents were a buzz that she couldn't make out fully, a side effect of Pop's baby wailing in her ears the night before when they had come over. Flaky, walking into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and climbed atop it. Voice drowsy as she said a good morning, she turned her attention on the old TV resting on the counter. The news was playing and she could only catch a few sentences before the rest was drowned out.

Adults used such big words to explain themselves, how did they expect anyone to understand what they were going on about? They just liked to speak, hear themselves talk, and sound smart to other people. That was a good explanation.

Flaky cringed with every high pitched scrape of the fork as it scratched the pan. It felt like her ears bled whenever the unintentionally screech sounded, and with her mother letting it go by unnoticed it happened again. A small shake shot up her spin at the second scratching. She left the TV to place a wondering stare upon the older woman.

"M-mommy, what are we doing today?" she asked meekly, tensing for yet another sharp drag of prongs on coarse pan.

"I was thinking," the woman turned her head to gaze at her daughter, a faint smile tugging up the corner of her mouth, "that we would let you decide. It is the weekend after all, and it'd be a nice change from all the crazy things your father is always wanting to do." She laughed lightly as a defiant 'hey' came from inside the pantry.

"Whatever you want to do we'll do it. It could be going to the park, or heading somewhere to eat later, or just hanging out at home, anything."

"A-anything?" Flaky stepped off her seat, going to stand besides her mother and contemplating what she would ask to do. It seemed that her mom would always give the planning of activities to her, and if it was not her day to decide the two adults would always swing to do something she found enjoyable. She hadn't participated in any outgoings that wouldn't appeal to her in one way or another. Just last week she had chosen a ride on the kiddy train at the carnival as opposed to her father's want to do extravagant stunts while plummeting to earth.

That was too dangerous, her mother had been on opposite sides of the argument of going sky diving.

Her stomach rumbled and informed her that it would not allow her thoughts to process correctly if it didn't get food first. "I-I don't know right now, but I can think about it!"

Flaky's mother smiled, patting her head with her free hand and scraping the pan once more. She didn't see the child retract because of the harsh noise, or so Flaky believed. "Alright I'll give you some time, go sit down and think about it, okay? The food's about to be done so your little tummy doesn't have to worry anymore."

Flaky, about to go sit again, halted at the sight of the blue flames.

Tamed and unwavering as they licked the pan's underside, they seemed to be whispering to her. Peculiar was what it was, flames couldn't talk, especially not the ones used for cooking her eggs. But these were, it explained the soft murmurs that brushed her ears—when it wasn't interrupted by the repetitive scratching that was fraying her last nerve.

"M-mommy," she rubbed her ear, "can you stop d-doing that, p-please? It's, um, hurting my e-ears."

"Hm? Doing what?" The brunette looked fully at her daughter for the first time. "What am I doing?"

The room was at a standstill as Flaky's mouth opened, a soft gasp leaving the slight gap between her lips. She forgot the scraping sounds for the time being, eyes locked on the face of her birth giver in a silenced awe. Her hand slipped away from where she had been tugging on her apron to hang limply at her side. "Oh . . ."

It was the right side of her face that caught her attention, it stood out like a sore thumb.

Rosy, smooth skin darkened into a grotesque, charred black that covered the flesh from the base of her neck to her hair line. The end of her plump lips was withered and melted together to create a horrid, pale scar that didn't belong in the dark skin. Circling her eye was a dusting of ashes and evidence of herself being burnt, though not as critical. Her right cheek was hallow, the bone jutting out noticeably, and the remaining patch of conjoined cells was drawn over it tightly.

As if it would tear if she smiled too big.

"Flaky?" she questioned her child's drastic change in behavior. "What's wrong?"

The eight year old couldn't drag her eyes away for the sake of her. Gaunt and bony, the side of her face was too much of a distraction, and she didn't seem to realize that was the cause of her gawking. The whispers from the fire were back, but instead of coming from only the stove, they sounded off from all corners of the room. Familiar, familiar . . . She had seen this before.

"I-I don't know what," stuttered Flaky. "But, m-mommy, what happened to your face?"

The woman's expression grew grave, frightened, as she subconsciously brought her hand to hide her scars. She prodded the wrinkled flesh and passively said, "Oh this, it's nothing. Just a burn, a small burn that I got from straightening my hair." Seeing the girl reaching up with outstretched fingers to touch the disfiguration, she pushed them down.

"T-then why is it so big—"

"Have you thought of a family activity yet?" Her turning of the eggs that were long done quickened, frantic reflected in her eyes despite her calm voice. "I think that maybe we should go to the beach, see that new petting zoo, or—"

"Can we invite Flippy to go with us? I k-know he likes penguins so can we go to the zoo and—"

"Flippy?" The squeaking fork hit the pan bottom again. Her mother pursed her lips, shaking her head urgently. Fear passed over her face for an instant, then it hardened and her scrambling grew feverish. "No. How about we don't invite him. Not today, not anymore."

But her parents had always loved Flippy. He was a powerful influence to younger children like her, kind, protective, and reliable he was their main babysitter for her. So why was her mother suddenly giving him the cold shoulder? Even worse than the cold shoulder, her voice was hating and snappy, a tone she hadn't heard her mother use towards anyone.

"W-why? Is he doing something today?"

"No. We don't talk to Flippy anymore, and you know why?" The flicking of her wrist that held the fork grew rapid, hand stiff on the pan handle. "We cannot trust Flippy. He was a good kid when we first met him, I thought he cared about you, but then he pulls a stunt like . . . It's unforgivable."

What was she going on about? Her mother was starting to sound as confusing as the people on the news, and Flaky didn't like it.

"I never thought he would think of hurt—" Her frenzy of mashing and scrambling the breakfast food had paid off, the cooking dish slipping from the stove and hitting the ground with a loud clatter.

Flaky jumped back, screaming as the burnt eggs dropped in all directions, while the woman stared warily at the open flame. Turning the stove dial off, she grabbed a broom from the pantry and swept up the food that would need to be discarded now. "We don't allow him in this household and you shouldn't be wondering about him anymore."

"But why don't we—"

"How about you go play outside while I clean this up?" The grown woman smiled painfully, setting the broom aside and grabbing the child's hand. "Maybe while you're playing you can think of something _fun_ for all three of us. Wouldn't that be nice?"

She let herself be pulled from the kitchen, blinking against the dim light that light up the hallway leading to the front door. On the walls were pictures of the three together, but they were blurred, unfocused, and smudged with black soot. The adult stopped by the door, taking the time to wipe away the dirt and grim that looked like had built up over years from a family portrait. Forlorn and guilt traced her features as she stared at the happy group, then it left as she set of back down on its stand and opened the front door.

"Sit somewhere on the grass, under the tree if you want, and think really hard on something that we can do. Remember, it has to be fun, appropriate, and try to put some thought into it!" Her smile fled as she pushed her daughter out into the yard with more force than necessary. The door swung shut, leaving Flaky alone outside, and the padlock was heard being locked.

Trying the knob, Flaky found that it truly was locked. She had just been so cheerful and nice . . . what had happened? Seated on the grass and poking her bare feet, she tried deciphering what her mother had meant by not talking to Flippy anymore.

_Flippy's Flippy though, he couldn't do anything. I know Mommy still likes him secretly, why wouldn't she? It's not like he told her something rude, I don't even remember the last time he came over._

The fact that she didn't remember when her favorite babysitter visited was startling, as she always cherished those memories of laughter and happiness, but that was only part of it. Now, while she was trying to uproot his last visit, she was finding out that she couldn't remember what happened over the past month. Or week. Or even day. The only events she did remember were the ones that had recently occurred, those being her awakening and her mom acting strange.

In itself that seemed out of the ordinary, not just her mom acting out of sorts, but it felt as though she was going through a repentance of time. It could just be her overactive imagination at work, resulting in Deja vu, but she felt the stirrings of uncertainty in her stomach.

She looked past the swinging open picket fence that went around the perimeter of her house and down the empty street. Usually the street teamed with children, all of which she had befriended. They would frolic together, playing jubilant games that were intended for giggles and delighted squeals, and simply be kids. She took pleasure in sitting on the sidelines and watching, but it was still entertaining. Though with the street this empty, a plastic bag floating through the wind like a tumbleweed, anyone would have thought all the houses were vacant. Hadn't been occupied for years. A ghost town.

Wait though, there was a living individual going through the streets. It was—"Pitch?" Flaky asked aloud. The grey furred pit bull had exited a yard whose grass had wilted and changed to brown, but seeing her, he started barreling to her. The dog's tongue swung out of his mouth as he ran past the gate, of course he would ignore the no trespassing sign. Before she could reject any of his affections, the pit bull had already given her a hearty kiss, slobber slicking back her hair and dripping down her cheek.

"Ew," she squeaked and shoved his head down, "n-no Pitch stop it! Get down! I don't want any k-kisses!" He didn't understand the meaning of no, apparently, for he delivered another slobbery lick to her hand. Wiping it on the grass, not even the look of pure joy for no real reason and the way his eyes looked in different directions could cheer her up.

"Why are you here? Did Flippy let y-you off your leash again?"

Pitch didn't reply, unless she could count his hind leg scratching a flea behind his ear a response.

"Well, at least I have you to h-hang out with me," Flaky smiled optimistically. That was, she smiled until he got up, eyes looking straight as they did when he was serious. Haunches rising and growling, he trotted to the locked down and pawed it, growl turning into a whine.

She called for him once, then twice, and he ignored her, standing on his hind legs and barking at the door. "Pitch, Pitch stop it. Y-You're going to get me in trouble." Grabbing and pulling on his collar turned out to be futile, the heavy set dog refusing to leave the door. What was wrong with him today, he hadn't acted this weird since he had swallowed a bird and it caused some internal issues. He had even nipped her hand, growling warningly, when she wouldn't stop pulling him.

"What's wrong . . ." She sighed, passing his suspicions as the typical stupidity of an animal, and put her hands on her hips.

Flippy's dog had been barking for minutes now, but her mother nor father had come out to silence him. The two weren't keen of animals, not even the fish that had been her first pet, and any other day they would try to silence the animal's noises. Usually it was having Lumpy come and take the thing to a pound where its real owner would find it.

Flaky's stance dropped slowly as she considered the thought of a threat inside the house and Pitch trying to warn her; to warn her parents. "Okay, I'm trusting you on this one." She grabbed the handle, flinching and crying in pain at the burning sensation in her palm. It was first icy, heating up instantly and enveloping her hand in a fiery grasp.

Pitch whined lowly as she tumbled backward onto the concrete path, tears pricking at her eyes. Nudging her arms away, his wet nose found her curled up palm. Flaky whimpered as the canine's tongue lapped the raw skin, cooling it immensely and causing some pain to subside.

Her stare going back to the handle, she saw the glowing metal, red radiating from it, and realized that a blazing heat was the only way it had turned into a burning object. Only a blacksmith would use metal that heated in his shop, bending it to create weaponry or decorations, and she wondered why. . . .

Flaky's eyes grew to comedic sizes at the amount of black smoke billowing up and out of the house's chimney. That could only mean—

Yellow and orange flames shone through the shut windows, reflecting onto the grass and the girl sitting on it. The curtains that her mother had been so fond of fluttered in the living room as they were steadily consumed by the growing fire. They were eaten away in front of her, turned to a pile of ashes that were scattered and swirled inside on the unreal breeze.

The cloud of smoke that was gathering around the house thickened as the flames reached an open window. Ashes flew freely through the air, settling on the grass and in her hair. This wasn't correct, but it all felt so familiar. Had she witnessed a fire before? Up close? If she hadn't, then how could she picture the singeing heat so well, seen the smoke going up like towers in the sky, and feel the scratchiness in her throat?

This had all happened before, but when was what she didn't know. Pitch barked at the fire but dared not go as near as he had before. He might have been a dumb dog at times, but when there chaos at hand he knew to sit back and enjoy the ride. How he would enjoy this ride was unforseen though.

Flaky was lost in the crackling and bellowing warmth, finding the at these flames danced rather than stood still like the others. She could almost make out pictures in them, the faces of her parents popping out on the bright colors. They were smiling. Yes, smiling. Their faces distorted in happy grins that looked similar to screams of pain.

Those weren't pictures, she found that she was looking through the darkened window at the two forms who were screaming inside. Her mother's burn had grown to cover her whole face now and her eyes were shut as she screamed in agony, her long brown hair burning away with each passing second.

Her house was on fire. This happened already. When, she didn't know. House on fire. House. Fire. Parents. Fire. Alone. Fire.

The gravitation of the situation weighing down on her finally, Flaky stared horrified as a wall of flames leapt up to block the two adults from her view. ". . AHHH!" Her sharp shriek echoed through the desolate neighborhood, it being followed by three more abrupt cries as she covered her mouth.

"N-NO!" Eyes shutting, Flaky scratched at her face and pinched her arms to wake herself up. Anything to get out of this nightmare. "NO! NO!" Nothing was working! Pitch had stopped trying to pull her away by the sweater, hesitating before running away from the towering house.

The roof beginning to cave in, she knew it was time to leave. _I need to get help! I need to help them! I_ _need to—I need to do something!_ Were her frantic thoughts as she ran from the glowing lawn.

The black smoke from the house had stretched across the sky and hidden every inch of blue, casting everything into a ghostly night that smelt of gasoline and ash. The sun was nowhere to be found, only the smog filled atmosphere. Houses, abandoned houses, passed her as she fled down the street. Flaky called out for Pitch, whistling for him through tears, but the dog was long gone.

Surely she couldn't be alone, not really. Dark windows and empty car ways begged a differ, contradicting that she was the only individual in this world. It wasn't a world, it was the hell that her mom had told her about before. That was it, pain, misery, and fire everywhere was how she had explained it. She hadn't said she would be alone, she had left that out. Why?

Her short legs ached and protested against her, screaming to slow her pace. She couldn't, because though she had ran at least two blocks, she still felt the imposing presence of the collapsing house behind her. It was following her wherever she went, never losing her, falling behind, or gaining in. As though she were running on a treadmill, she might think she was moving, but the cruel reality was she was stuck in the same place.

The houses had fallen away, leaving her in a barren field of nothing. Soot covered her clothes and the ashes were being pulled into her lungs with every wheeze, and soon she needed a break least she faint from oxygen deprivation.

Flaky's small frame was racked with coughs, the ashes scratching her throat and filling every breath. Around her was nothing but black grounds and falling debris, pieces of portraits and photos that had been destroyed in the fire. There wasn't a Pitch, either parent, or signs of civilization. If this was a dream, a nightmare, why couldn't she wake herself up? Flippy had always said that if she needed a wakeup call she should—

Flippy!

She could always think of him and he would show up, he had promised her that he would . . .

"F-Flippy," Flaky whispered, peering around the landscape for the army man. "F-Flippy, I'm scared and alone, I need you. P-please be here, I need you, I d-don't know what's going on . . ." He still wasn't there, had he broken his promise? She had trusted that she would be able to call on him at any time, and he would b-be there.

"Flippy p-please." The last call died on her lips as she lost hope, giving up and facing the terrifying events by herse—

Two hands came from behind her, covering her eyes, and a strong chest pressed to her head. She reached up worriedly and felt the leather gloves, then the scraggly material of a sweater as she moved upward. Could it be? Her cries had been answered, and her protector was here. "F-Flippy?" asked Flaky quietly. "I-is that you?"

"Yeah," came the deep response, deeper than she remembered it being. Then again, her mind could have always made alterations to dream Flippy. "It's me."

"I-I was s-scared," she said, feeling an onslaught of tears coming, "and I d-didn't know what to do. M-my house, my p-parents, f-fire—"

"It's okay, Flaky," he cooed softly, hands still covering her eyes. "Don't worry about that now, I won't let anything happen to you."

Trembling, she pulled down his hands and turned to his embrace, burrowing into his sweater. "F-Flippy." He smelled of peppermint, musk—copper? Ash . . ? She sniffed again, connecting the smell to that of ash. It was falling all around them, it didn't mean anything that he smelled of it too. But copper?

Growing as stiff as a wooden plank, she craned her head up to him. Going from the chin up, she noticed something drip from it and land on her cheek. Warm with the same coppery scent. She hadn't time to think of it, seeing how she was speechless once reaching the shark toothed smile he sported. "F-Flippy?" Then, there they were.

The eyes that glowed as much as the fire itself, shining with a cold amusement at her shaken look. They weren't Flippy's, she didn't know whose they were.

But she knew that they were hungry, the man wanted to eat her.

**xXx**

Flaky's eyes shot open as she bolted up in her bed, screaming at the top of her lungs. "FLIPPY! FLIPPY! FLIIPPYY!" She shrieked murder, trying to unravel herself from the entombment of her blankets. Images of fire, ash, and golden eyes flashed in her mind as she thrashed in the bed, desperate to escape the hold he had on her. "N-NO!"

The door was kicked open, another scream from her, and the light was switched on. Flippy stood in the doorway, bat in hand, in his boxers and t-shirt. He was expecting a killer to be in her room; what he got was a struggling Flaky.

"Flaky?!" Once sure there was no murderer in sight, he dropped the bat and ran to her. Her screaming hadn't stopped and he feared that she had hurt herself, but there weren't any external injuries, so it could only be internal. "Flaky?! Flaky, calm down, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Does something hurt inside of you?"

Finding it necessary to stop her screams for fear that the neighbors would think of calling the cops, he firmly pressed his hand to her mouth. It stopped the cries, but the look of an animal being inspected under a microscope was still in her face. Chest rising and falling but the child taking in no real air, she looked at the room in horror.

"Flaky," Flippy said calmly, "what happened? Why are you screaming at three in the morning? Does something hurt?" He took his hand back, putting it on her arm instead as he heard he batted breaths.

"I-I thought t-that I saw—it w-was real and—" Flaky, face scrunching and a sob retching from her chest, threw herself into the open lap of her soldier. "F-f-fire," she cried, pressing up the closest she could against his firm body. "I s-saw fire."

Flippy's face filled with relief that she wasn't feeling internal pain, but the word fire . . . He put his chin on her forehead, making shushing noises that he knew calmed her. "Flaky, it's fine, it was all a dream. I'm here now and I won't let anything happen."

That was what he had said in her dream, and it was a lie. If he hadn't let anything happen to her and had the full intent of being her protector, why had her mind morphed him into such a terrible looking monster?

**xXx**

**Sooo this is where the rating might go up just a bit, but this is definitely not T worthy so I'm just saying. Confused? Yes? Well I hope you are!**

**Glad I updated this, was fun to write C: And yes, I do believe that both of Flaky's parents are brunettes . . . don't ask me why. Maybe because I believe that only Flaky (and Splendont) can have red hair?**

**Let's go on elevator adventures! WHEEE! *takes Crystal and Boony on boring elevator ride (this is rated K plus so I can't kill either of you xD)***


	8. A Counsler and Their Bullies

School the next day. And still the depressing dream swirled through her thoughts and distracted Flaky from her work at hand. The mystery that lay in it had yet to be revealed by her. Her constant thinking and prodding at it as she eagerly attempted to dig up more clues had been in vain. She couldn't analyze what meaning it held to her, but it had to be vital. Why else would she be given such a lucid and realistic dream if it was to mean nothing?

It was uncharacteristic for her to have nightmares, let alone these haunted dreams that conjured the nefarious monster she'd seen. She knew that it was a monster for the look in its eyes was pure evilness, a craving for death and mayhem, and she had realized that in a split second. Had she held his stare any longer she'd be bound to fish out more than she'd be capable of handling; the look was already the ghost hiding in the shadows of everything. There was little room for doubt in her mind that he was only another passing fear that escaped to enter her dreams, she believed he meant more than that.

What he was to her was what she longed to know. It added to her paranoia—that was beyond normal levels in her stable state of mind—and was like a pestering fly that couldn't be swatted away. He'd been dressed like Flippy, same green hair, army based wardrobe, gloves, but that couldn't mean anything. Right?

"Flaky." The tapping of a wooden pointer on the board dragged her from her thoughts. Back into the cheery aired room of children currently being taught how to add double digits. Lumpy was leaning on a desk and waiting for her attention. She hadn't noticed that she had zoned out, blushing and casting her eyes down. "I know the squirrelies outside are fun to look at, but we're learning adding now."

"Yes Mr. Lumpy," she obediently said, ignoring the snickers of her two table mates.

"So if you add the two and the other two—that one over there . . . why is it so far away? You should get fish!"

The teacher hadn't made sense or taught them any real math since he had burned all the paperback math books, saying he needed the warmth to bear through the cold nights, so school was like this every day. It was a shocker that of all the whispering and goofing off children she'd be the one to get picked out for accidentally staring outside. The idiotic man was just like that.

"But then the fish gets eaten by a number shark!" Board being covered in doodles of sharks, Lumpy was too occupied to see that students were packing up. As the clock struck three, they raced out the door as if the building were on fire. Left in the room was the still drawing man and her table group, Petunia and Giggles hadn't waited like they promised they would each day.

The twins hadn't bothered to spare a passing glance at the distant redhead. They had been staying afterwards each day since they'd chased her, and she suspected the reason for it. One specifically, she couldn't tell which was which anymore, had grown a low self-esteem, and that could only be a result of every person confusing him for his brother.

Shifty, ever since mysteriously losing his fedora, had grown snappier if he caught any stares on him or if there was a mix up of names. Flaky could guess how frustrating it would be to be mistaken as another individual but she hadn't worked up the courage to return what was lost. Call it forgetfulness or an inadvertent act of revenge, but she couldn't seem to remember she had his hat whenever they came in contact. And it had gotten to him, everyone could tell. If she could only remind herself to take the headwear from its place on her bed post in the morning she'd bring it. . . .

"Let's get outta here," Shifty said, ensured that all the children had left before him. "Lifty, cover me 'kay?"

"Don' worry, they're all gone. I don't know why you're so scared of people seeing you without your hat, scaredy cat." Lifty rolled his eyes at his brother's overreaction; he didn't see what the deal was. So he lost his hat, who cared? Shifty did, and the only person who ever would.

"Shut up, let's just go before someone comes back for their bag. Move it!"

Utterly alone save for the teacher, Flaky gathered her own belongings and prepared to leave. Had Lumpy not called her to a stop.

"Flaky," Lumpy said while straightening up, "uh, hold on. I think you needed ta go somewhere, can't remember where though." He scratched his head in a pondering manner. "Do you know where you're supposed ta go?"

Flaky stared after the door, slowly making her way to it. "N-no? I think it's time to go home—bye Mr. Lumpy, I'll see you tomorrow."

"No! Wait I remember now!" She could almost see the steam exiting his ears from the exertion of him trying to think of what it was. "I think you needed ta go to the office! Was it right now? Or did they say for you ta go at lunch?"

"But why do I-I need to go to the office? Did I do something w-wrong?"

"I don't think they told me that—" Which was a cover-up for he forgot. "—but why are you going to the office? Did you do something bad?"

At this point, it'd be better for her to back out of the room and go about her business. If she tried explaining that she was asking him the same thing she'd never find out what she'd done. Flaky shut her mouth, giving up talking to the moronic adult, and waved to him as she left. "O-okay, I'm going right now, goodbye Mr. Lumpy."

_I ask one thing and he can't even answer that. I'm glad that Flippy's good with numbers and letters, or else I wouldn't learn anything this year._

The open hallways had emptied of over eager kids a minute after the bell that ended school officially had sounded. Not many had stayed behind, finding importance in video games and going over to friends' houses, and the janitor, an older man in his middle age who was known for his bushy mustache, was left to clean. Flaky paused to watch him scrub down the water fountain for a moment, scurrying away when he looked and caught her staring.

He wasn't mean in the slightest of ways, he was a homely sort of man, but adults always made her feel nervous. Queasy. A tad stupid and young compared to how superior they were. That explained the butterflies hitting the walls of her stomach and bouncing around like tennis balls gone haywire, she wasn't prepared to go to the office. Possibly facing the principal and getting yelled at for whatever she'd done sent the butterflies into overdrive.

Flaky trekked over the blacktop, the main office seeming more ominous than it had from the other million times she'd past it. Rounding the corner, she took an intake of air and whispered silent, encouraging words. Pushing against the door, she entered the office, the bugs in her stomach turning to rocks that dropped straight down.

Nothing in particular was scary about the office, save for the up do the secretary had, but just the fact that it was the _principal's office_ gave her the chills. She hadn't sat on the blue, barely cushioned seat before a voice called for her down the hall.

"Flaky?"

She was still, hands clutching the arm rests as she pictured the principal leaning over her and yelling that she was expelled from the school forever. But the wave on from the style lost woman that meant to go in was what set her free. Hands held behind her, Flaky left to the held open door. The man she recognized as a person who'd gone to parties hosted by Petunia's mother, but she wasn't sure what his name was. The plaque on his desk said 'Mr. Riley', a happy name that could only mean he was a happy man.

"Hi," 'Mr. Riley' said as he smiled and beckoned her inside his close spaced office. "How are you doing today?"

Mr. Riley was a round man with small, blue button eyes and bright red cheeks. The rolls under his chin lead to the front buttons of his shirt, which seemed on the verge of popping off. The suspenders that were keeping his slacks up were stretched beyond their limits and could barely restrain his bulging belly that jiggled as he spoke.

He had a bad comb over, the slicked down hairs far from hiding the peachy scalp of his circular head, but his bright smile took some attention away from it. His voice was higher in pitch and friendly, the kind she'd imagine Santa Claus to have when he was twenty years younger. Mr. Riley appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, a man who looked almost nicer than the grandpa janitor.

Immediately Flaky knew she liked him.

He just had that feel good vibe, the kind that made anyone around him become joyous even when they were down in the dumps.

"I-I'm fine," Flaky said shyly. She might like him but that didn't help her shyness around new people.

"What's your name?" he asked, making it seem like they were newly introduced acquaintances rather than a—what he worked as she didn't know—and a child. His hand was held out to her, an invitation to shake it.

"M-my name's Flaky." She shook his hand, wowed by how small hers was in his giant, fleshy one. "Mr. R-Riley, yeah?"

"Indeed, Flaky. You're a shy one aren't you? I can tell by that little stutter you have there." There was a twinkle of humor in his blue buttons, the smile growing as she looked at her feet. "You don't have to be shy around me, I let all the kids be comfortable, I don't try to make you come out of your shell sooner than you want. Just ask around, some of your friends might've come to see me already."

She nodded, some tension lifted from her as she was assured that he was a sane, comfy adult who would easily keep a conversation going. "I-I guess I'm a little shy, b-but I—hehe."

"As long as you're not feeling pressured, you can be as shy as you want. I'm not here to judge you, I'm shy around new people, too, if you can believe that."

Of course she didn't believe that this rosy man was shy around people, he was making her feel better about her speech problem. It worked.

He waved to a beanbag that matched the rest of the sunny room's yellow colt scheme. "Why don't you sit down so we can get to know each other better? Go on, don't be afraid, the chair won't gobble you up." Flaky sat and quickly sank into a dip, scrambling to get out before her impression was left in it. "Now isn't that better? I always thought sitting was a relief from standing, don't you?"

"T-thank you, and y-yes it is," she spoke out, failing helplessly in the indentation that was keeping her trapped. "It's really squishy!"

He smiled before his tone grew serious, business like, straight to the point. "Ehem, so the reason I had you called in here was due to a call I received from a very concerned Mr. Splendid." She stopped her rustling and listened closely at the name. "Do you know who he is?"

"Yes . . . He's my u-uncle." Until she knew why his reason for calling was, she'd give vague answers and listen intently. What would be his reason? "Can I ask w-why he called?"

"That's the part that he wanted to get across clearly to me." Mr. Riley had picked a toy from the pile meant to calm angered or anxious children and squeezed it, chuckling as the stress doll's eyes popped out. "He informed me that you might be having problems at home?"

That caught her interest, but not the kind she'd have if it were for something fun. Flaky couldn't help her stare from asking if he was serious. "W-what problems at home?"

"Any type of issue that might be troubling you? It could be with your school life, homework, friends, etc., or maybe you're stressing over things that may not seem important to other people? Do you play with dolls?" He had once had a student come in with a strange doll obsession, they'd worry themselves sick if they didn't know what was happening to their toys every hour of every day. This girl could be the same, if not have a problem similar to it.

"No." Petunia and Giggles played with dolls, she played with action figures! "But I don't think I'm having any t-trouble at home—"

"Have you had any nerve wreaking dreams or illusions lately?" the plump man asked in the middle of her sentence. "Any dreams that kind of jumped out of you? Nightmares? Have you suffered any physical abuse in past years?"

Seeing that the number of questions was overwhelming her, he slowed his pace. "Any of the above?"

"N-no, I don't think I've ever been h-hit by anyone . . . And why? W-what do dreams have to do with anything?"

"So you have had dreams?" He didn't want to pry before she was ready, but Splendid had entrusted him to find something, anything, that was bothering her. He hadn't pointed out specifics, though the edgy tone he'd spoken with said that it was bothering him more than it looked like to her. It was his job as the school counselor to help any child who was having problems, it didn't matter how deep they were.

She didn't answer, leaving him to repeat the question again. "Flaky, _have _you had any dreams? What are they about?"

"N-no," she stated calmly, "I haven't had any dreams. I'm not having problems a-at home and I've never been hit."

"Are you positive that's the truth? You can tell me Flaky, we're friends aren't we? If there's anything you want to tell me, anything at all, don't bottle it up inside."

Flaky faltered in her replies. What if she did choose to tell Mr. Riley about the dreams, how would he help her? She swallowed, craving the cool sensation of water trickling down and quenching her parched throat. "I-I'm positive. There's nothing I want to tell you . . ."

Mr. Riley's face filled with disappointment but brightened just as fast. "Don't worry kiddo, if there's nothing bugging you, there's nothing. I'll call your parent to come pick you up." He grabbed the phone and waited before saying, "If you are having any problems, my door is always open. You can come in and we'll talk it over, don't feel so shy that you think you can't talk to me."

She agreed, letting the wrongful word 'parent' go by without correction.

**xXx**

"I need to a-ask you for a favor," Flaky said, just barely getting into the jeep. Flippy looked like he had been about to ask her something, why she had stayed after school probably, but she had spoken first. She slammed the door shut, waiting for his response.

"Hi to you too, kid." Flippy put the vehicle into drive and let the silence hang to imply for her to speak on.

She caught herself. She had made the veteran leave whatever he'd been doing and pick her up—he deserved a short explanation at least. "S-sorry you had to come here, but I . . . needed to talk to Mr. Lumpy about my homework. I didn't think I'd miss the bus, I'm really sorry."

"It's fine Flakes, I was just wondering where you had gone off to this time. But what were you gonna ask me when you came in?" He sounded as if he wanted more information on why she'd stayed for nearly forty-five minutes extra. She wasn't going to answer his unasked questions yet, though.

Flaky's gaze had turned onto her bag, her hands unbuckling and slipping inside it. Her fingertips brushed the brim of a flattened hat, the decision being made. "Can you take me somewhere? I h-have to return something to a friend."

**xXx**

As the jeep pulled to the sidewalk, parallel parking between two knocked over trash cans, Flippy and Flaky were rendered to silence. A police siren wailed through and pierced the air, accompanied by the yowling of a disturbed cat and overturn of a different trash can. The crashing of a window only allowed yelling from the insides of a rundown house to be heard outside, a woman's voice screaming vulgarities at the top of her lungs.

Stray animals wondered aimlessly in the street, some stopping to search through the garbage for scraps and others instantly entering fights. Vicious growls and whimpers of the losers sent Flaky shrinking in her seat. The bony animals were fiercer than expected at first glance.

"Flaky?"

"Yes?" Flaky said, daring to look over the window sill.

"Where are we?" Flippy almost sounded scared, shocked, out of place.

They had parked before a battered and weathered down house that was worse in shape than others on the block. Beige paint was chipping and peeling away from the walls, the occasional patch of plaster showing. A window's shutter was hanging off its hinges, revealing the cracked glass that was being held together with silver duct tape. It creaked in the faint breeze and threatened to fall to the ground completely.

Had it fallen, it would have lay among the dead, browned grass. It would have been forgotten for years, the owners of the house paying no mind. It would have been trampled under the feet of dozens of children that came in and out, new grass growing over it and dying again.

Flaky gulped at the ghetto street and gripped the fedora to her chest. "I d-don't know if this is the right address. S-Sniffles said this is where they live at."

"They? Who is 'they'?" Flippy couldn't stop her from opening the door and jumping out, nearly tripping on the uneven street. "Hey! Flaky! Where are you going?"

"I have to give something back!" Flaky looked up the street to a group of at least seven teenage boys sitting on a house porch. Their voices were loud and smug as they taunted each other, cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. She shivered involuntarily, glad that her guardian had gotten out to follow her. His hand protectively on her shoulder she ignored the frightening sounds and pushed aside the rusting chain link fence.

The two stared at broken toys that were lost in the grass and unturned pieces of cement, Flippy subconsciously bringing her closer. He hadn't known that there were neighborhoods such as this one, not in their happy little town. As they reached the screen door, he knocked on it with a light fist.

"Flaky, I think that you did get the wrong address," he said after hearing a crash from inside the house. "I don't know anyone who'd live in these conditions."

"I know but Sniffles said they—" Maybe he's right, not even the two would live here. It's so, bad? No, that's not right, what about dangerous? And scary. "Sniffles wouldn't give me the wrong place, would he?"

The noise inside continued, a TV with static problems and what sounded like a football game telling them someone was home, but they hadn't answered. Flippy was close to knocking again and trying the buzzer he doubted would work, when the energetic cries of kids came from the lot in the backyard. Seeing how the house owners weren't answering, Flaky stepped away and began circling the corner to see the uproar.

"Flaky!" Flippy hissed urgently. "Don't leave my side! G-d help me, you don't know what's happening back there!"

"T-that's why I need to go check it out!" And she was gone before he could demand her to come back.

The dried lawn crunched with every step as the noises grew louder, enough for her to pick out a few voices. There were none that she recognized, they sounded mean, snooty, and the words that left their mouths were for sailors only. Not the kids who she thought would be sixth or seventh graders. If they were seventh graders—she trembled at the idea of facing older, more threatening kids.

"Why are you two runnin' away still? I thought ya woulda learned by now that we're faster than youz."

Flaky stopped at the corner, heart skipping at the older voice.

"Ye—ah," some other boy's voice cracked, a sign of puberty, "and don't think you can confuse us with your old who's who trick. You pulled that on us too many times, so we came up with a plan. We'll just beat both of you to pulps so the rat who really did it gets in trouble without ditching out. Isn't that good?"

"What's with all the talking? I'm tired and hot and I just wanna go inside already, the sun's killing me. Can't we just knock their lights out right now?"

"Didn't ya see how much the two scoundrels made us run? Like hell I'm lettin' this go by quickly. Ima draw it out so they feel every kick and punch I give to 'em."

The hiding redhead felt Flippy's presence as he followed her, about to talk before she quieted him and pointed to listen. His forest colored eyes turned to slits as he heard the voices and threats they held. "What's happening?"

Flaky shrugged, locking onto his arm. "I-I think that maybe—um." Leaning out enough to see their appearance but stay hidden, she scoped the five boys. All three were tall, two lanky and one on the chubbier side, the teen standing before the others most likely the leader of the group. The shorter two, standing off to the side, held expressions that were mingled with nervousness and a sort of fading courage. Dark green hair, matching masks, and identical faces, they could only be her own bullies. "Shifty . . . Lifty!"

The leader blew a bubble from the gum he'd been obnoxiously chewing, staring, disgusted, at the pair of twins. "Yeah, that's what Ima do. For every damn thing ya little thieves took from me."

"W-we haven't taken anything this time!" Lifty piped up, barely dodging the boxing to his ear one of the henchmen had shot out. "Really! We were at school and—"

"Oh yeah?" Gum boy pulled a scruffy wallet out, opening it for the two to see that it was empty. A lint ball fell, leaving nothing in it at all. "Ya see this? What is it?"

"A wallet, stupid," Shifty answered bluntly, missing the balled up hand that shot out at lightning speed. He hissed and rubbed his newly throbbing ear, not having his brother's quick reflexes to dodge the fist. "What?! You asked me and I answered!"

"It's. Empty. Idiots, no wonder nobody wanted any of y'all when ya first went up for adoption. If it weren't for my ma, ya probably be on the streets fighting the dogs for scraps. Shoulda just kicked ya out, that's what I woulda done 'stead of keepin' ya troublemakers 'round."

Shifty glared fiercely, looking like he would want nothing more than to tear out the older male's throat, but Lifty keeping a firm hand on him stopped that from occurring. They were unresponsive, backing away in hopes of being able to split up and start a new chase. The way they had cornered them, corralling them from three sides and sealing off their possible exits, left little chance for that.

"Useless little scumbags, you can't even spell your names I bet!" The boy with puberty tried, gaining a laugh from the last, dumber looking male. "You got wh—at's coming to you!"

"But we didn't do anything!" Lifty insisted. "You have no proof that we took it! Tell them Shifty, we didn't take anything did we? Shifty? Did we?"

His twin had bitten down on his lip, shrugging at the question. "I don't know, maybe."

"Maybe!? Are you kidding me?! Shifty you stupid head! Why would you even—"

"Now ain't that somethin'? The younger one chewin' out his brother for stealin', hilarious. Usually I'd only jack the one who did it, but I'm feelin' like I haven't toughened you two up for a while now. And I dunno which one's which so I'd have ta get ya both, looks like ya two's gift of being lookalikes just turned into a curse."

"Yeah! Yeah! What are we gonna do to them? I think that we should hang them from the roof-"

"Or may—be tie them to the bikes and ride around? I didn't see any cops around the street today, so we wouldn't be caught!" The two were like well-trained animals who obeyed every order their master gave them and eagerly awaited more duties to fulfill. They didn't seem to question his authority, they just went along with what he commanded.

"Nah nah nah, that stuff's lame. I think we should just give 'em a good pounding and teach 'em not ta go through my stuff. Later on we'll get to the real things, but now I just wanna give 'em a lesson."

"That's a great idea! You're so smart, that's why you're the boss!"

The two in hiding glanced to one another. Flaky knew she was young and considered as naive, but she could sense what was going on here. It was like what the twins did to her every day in class.

Only worse.

The leader had stepped forward, nearly two times the size of Shifty and with a grit that most kids would be terrified of. Before she knew it, he had pushed the child back and onto the floor. Flaky could feel the pebbles scratch into her palm, the way they had when he had done the same to her. She could see how he clenched his teeth out of anger, frustration, pain.

"No . . !"

"Hey!" Lifty shouted, taking a stand for his brother and pushing away the heavier boy. "You leave him alone! He'll give back your dumb money, just stop it! You jerk—" His voice cut off in a strangled cry as one of his henchmen grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"A lot of bark, but no real bite." Stupid grinned at Lifty's shaking body, partially from rage and the rest from fear. "You should learn to shut your trap before you get even more hurt." He gripped his shirt in a tight fist, smiling dangerously as he lifted the struggling boy from the ground so his feet kicked the air. "You might even be in as much trouble as your brother if you don't shut up."

"I can't watch this anymore," Flippy growled. "Flaky stay here, I'll be right back."

"Boss is gonna take care of your stupid twin, so I'll just teach you your place right now." The bulky teenager cocked his arm, fist by his ear, and readied himself to deliver a punch the thief wouldn't forget.

Lifty's pupils shrunk in size as his smaller hands pushed down on the boy's meaty ones. "N-no! No! NO!" He flinched as Stupid shot his fist, expectant of the pain and bruise he'd have on his eye. But it didn't come as soon as he thought it would; it didn't come at all to his surprise.

"Wha—?" Inches from making contact with the boy's face and smashing it beyond recognition, his hand had been stopped by one that wore a glove. He looked up, stunned for a moment at the burrowed eyebrows and alight green eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

"Put. The. Boy. Down." ordered Flippy. His breaths were catching, blood pumping, a vein sticking out of his forehead, and he had no idea why anger consumed him suddenly.

"And who are you to tell me what to do—" Squinty eyes grew as the gloved hand clenched down on his, cracking the fingers and compressing the bones together. He heard the body shuddering snap before he actually screamed out, alerting the two who had ganged up on Shifty. "A-ahh! P-psycho! Psycho! Guys help me! He's breaking me ha—agh!"

Flippy stared at him ruthlessly. Eyes as dead as the grass, the boy instantly noticed the flicker in them. Green to yellow. Yellow to green. It started in the center of his pupil, expanding out as the outer circle grew smaller itself. The eyes were suddenly alive as a twisted golden, his lips turning up in a demented smile, the panicked cries of the bully becoming higher. It wasn't the pain that shot up his arm, it was the cold terror that struck him when he made contact with those demon eyes.

"Boo." Flippy's almost hoarse voice whispered. He let go of his crippled hand, eye color reverting back to a friendly, but confused green as the hefty boy stumbled back.

"O-Oh my Jesus, oh Christ what the hell was—" Fear stricken, he didn't look twice at his friend's before turning and fleeing. "Y-You're a freak! Mom! Mom!"

The pack leader looked after the traitorous teen and shouted, "Hey! Where are you going?! Get back here!"

The running boy didn't spare a glance, running as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. "No way! T-that guy's crazy, I saw it! I saw it! I saw the devil in his eyes! I-I need to go home, Mom!"

Leader and Puberty stared towards Flippy, forgetting about the twins, who were both on the ground now, for the so called psycho. He looked at them, a coldness entering his face as he stalked to them. "I'm going to count to three," he warned, "and if you two aren't out of my sight by then, believe that there's going to be trouble. One. Two—"

It surely didn't take to three for Puberty to ditch his friend and follow the third's lead. He hadn't even given a heads up, he had simply bolted away.

Leader was left, hesitating and glaring down at the fedora-less twin. "Y'all is gonna be dead meat by tomorrow."

"Three."

But he had already ran away, tripping over his own feet and looking back to see if Flippy was following him. He wasn't, but what was that thing at his side? It was shining, thin, and hidden in his sweater sleeve. Was . . . that a knife?

The ferocity left his features as he turned to the twins. Lifty was examining the cuts on his brother's hand, Shifty was holding contact with the army man. Their last meeting hadn't ended on great terms, but he had just helped them now. He only wanted to end them himself, Shifty was confident that was his motive.

Flippy, unsure of how to start, was relieved when Flaky came out from her hiding. She rushed to him and grabbed his arm once more. The lot was quiet as they waited for whichever person to make a first move. There was no talking, however, as Flaky stepped forwards and dusted off the fedora that'd been in her possession for days now.

Shifty stared dumbly as she knelt before him, holding the hat out for him to take. He was cautious about taking it from the girl he'd grown to make fun of, but once his hand was on it and she hadn't pulled it away yet, he brought it to himself fully. Perching it on his head where its rightful place was, he blinked when she smiled. Smiled sweetly.

And the sweet smile was directed at him and Lifty, not some other boy. But those who wanted her to fear them.

"I promised I-I'd return it."

No. This couldn't be happening. But it had. Ugh, don't say that he was actually thinking that this meant she wanted to be friends. Because that would be . . . nice?

**xXx**

**I was gonna update TIAT, but this one callleedd me. Did I seriously make a ghetto part of Happy Tree Town? xD Oh well I can because it's AU lololol! **

**Yeah, I also like believing that the twins were bullied when they were kids; that would explain why they pick on Flaky. Because she's smaller and they're hurting inside too c:**

**Did anyone see how Flippy almost flipped?! 0:**

***invites Boony to go on honeymoon with me and Crystal* Off to Paris! :D**


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